


The Hiddle Fantasy

by LadyThomasSharpe



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Thor (Movies)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-10-07
Updated: 2014-10-27
Packaged: 2018-02-20 07:49:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 36,258
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2420837
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyThomasSharpe/pseuds/LadyThomasSharpe
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>You're on a well earned vacation on a tropical island when an unexpected arrival changes the night for you. Tom Hiddleston is a gentleman in distress and he asks for your help. Which you are only too glad to offer.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Helplessly Hoping

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Inspired by Lady Muska](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=Inspired+by+Lady+Muska).

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> That poor drunk man needs help and how. And then you realize who you're playing the Good Samaritan for -- none other than Thomas William Hiddleston!
> 
> Lady Thomas Sharpe  
> © LTS 2014

 

It’s too hot in this room, this tropical room. You came here for vacation, hoping to find some peace and quiet on this island getaway. But tonight, this room is stifling. It’s hot and humid, even with the winds blowing through the open french doors. A storm is brewing over the ocean but it’s not here yet, not just yet. When the storm comes, the humidity will go away and it will be cool again. But not yet, not just yet. You’ve had three showers in the last hour and they only help for a few minutes before the cloying stickiness of the sultry night settles on your skin again.

Your white cotton dress clings to your body in an almost see-through fashion, molding itself around your curvy figure and pooling around your hips on the chair cushion beneath you. The sweat trickles between your full breasts, sliding down between them to soak the bottom of your bra. You part your thighs slightly to find some relief, your bare feet propped up on the ottoman. You’ve swept up your long hair from your neck, held by a banana clip on top of your head, making a cascade of silken curls fall on either side of your head and down your shoulders.

With a heavy sigh, you decide that any place is better than here – you just can’t stay another moment in this room alone. You asked for a room near the ocean to hear the waves crashing as you slept at night, but even that sound isn’t helping. You pick up your book – a romance novel that you’ve been dying to read for a while – and your card key, making your way to the door. You remember now that the hotel lobby is air-conditioned; you’ll go read for a bit in the lobby until the sleep finds you. Or the storm finally arrives. Only then will you be able to sleep.

The only person in the lobby is the night desk clerk. He’s working on the closing paperwork from the day, settling the accounts and such. He nods at you when you enter, smiling in that way that all customer service related people do – in other words, he has no interest in you once he realizes that you’re already a guest and don’t need anything. He bends his head back to his work while you find a comfortable chair to sit in. Oh yes, the cool air is just what the doctor ordered and you settle in with book in hand.

The story is riveting, a bit of mythology of a Norse God and his Frost Giant mistress. The toils and tribulations of the two as they fight to keep their love a secret, reveling in each other’s bodies. You’ve come to a particularly glorious moment of lovemaking between the two. Despite the chilled air of the lobby, you start to perspire again. You engage in a bit of fantasy, seeing the God’s face in your mind and pretending that you are the mistress. Oh, if it could only be real, if you could only feel those lithe fingers on your skin.

You wet one finger and put it to the page, to turn it, but you never finish the action. You hear a noise outside, a body banging against the hotel’s front entrance door, and it catches your attention. You look up just as the door is flung open and a very tall man staggers through it, to slam the door behind him. He turns toward it, laying his forehead against the wood. An alarm goes off inside of your head and you set your book down. You can see enough of his face to see that he’s very pale, sweating profusely, and you know inside that it’s not the heat.

You jump to your feet and dash over to him, noticing his well-proportioned figure is barely breathing. This man has blonde hair that’s just long enough to see the curls in it, bleached a bit by the sun. The coloring of his hair and the slight tan on his face leave you to know that he’s been here a while. He’s wearing jeans that hug his hips, showing off a very shapely ass that’s perfectly round. His long legs have the look of someone who bicycles or runs on a regular basis – toned and well-muscled thighs with shapely calves. His back is strong, barely covered by the tight tee shirt he wears. His hands are shoved in his pockets and he is breathing heavily.

You step to his side and put a hand against the small of his back. He doesn’t move but you see one side of his face, as the mouth curls up into a wry smile.

“Are you okay?” you ask. “Do you need help?”

“Help?” he repeats, his voice deep and rumbling in his chest. He speaks with a British accent, a _very sexy_ British accent. “Yes, I think I must. I’ve been out with friends, you see. Got a bit more pissed than I’d planned.”

He turns his face slightly and you gasp when you recognize the man standing before you. You’ve only seen him in the movies and in those pictures splashed all over the internet. To think that you’re standing here now with him, talking to him. Your mouth is suddenly dry and you find it a bit hard to breathe. You never once thought you could _ever_ meet this beautiful man. He’s your favorite actor, a lovely gentleman from everything you’ve ever read about him. The idea of being so close to him makes you almost faint and you have to remind yourself to keep breathing.

 _Oh God_ , you pray _, don’t let me say something stupid. I’m finally here with Tom Hiddleston and I don’t want to say or do anything stupid. Oh please, God, don’t let me do something stupid_.

“You look like you want to be sick,” you say. “You need to lay down.”

He smiles at you again, his eyes still closed and his forehead still pressed against the door. “I think I’m about to haver, darling. But the press…. Paparazzi outside. Can’t let them…can’t let them see…me….”

You put your hand on his arm, rubbing his back with the other. “And we won’t let them. It’ll be all right, I promise. You just come with me. I’ll take you up to my room. You can be sick there if you want and you can sleep it off.”

One eye opens and you see the most beautiful mint green color there, slightly bloodshot from the heavy drinking he’s been doing, but still amazing in its color. The green eyes that you’ve seen in your dreams every night and you want to stare into them forever. “I seem to be unable to…. Yes, thanks. That would be lovely.”

He closes the eye again, unable to speak further. You know that feeling, really; you’ve been that drunk before with the double vision and your stomach threatening to turn traitor to itself. You also know what it would mean to his career – and his fans – to see him like this; they’d have a field day in the tabloids. No, you decide. You have to help him, keep him away from them. You slip his arm around your shoulders and help him stand upright.

“Come on then.” You tell him your name, getting another small smile. “We’ll go to my room and I’ll keep you safe. Come on.”

“I’m having a bit of trouble walking, darling,” he says, his speech slurring a bit.

“It’s okay,” you coo to him. “You just lean on me. I’ll get you there in one piece.”

You put your arm around his waist, feeling the muscles of his back tense and then relax. His hip bumps into you as he stumbles a bit at first but finally finds his feet to walk beside you. He weaves a little but you manage to keep him upright and going in one direction. You stop at the front desk for a moment to address the clerk.

“I need some room service as soon as possible. Can you do that?” You look up at the inebriated actor who’s having a bit of trouble keeping his head from bobbing backward.

The clerk nods his knowing. “Mr. Hiddleston is one of our frequent guests.”

“Then you know what’s at stake here,” you say, tightening your grip on Tom’s waist. “I need several bottles of spring water, a pitcher of orange juice, and if you have any aspirin, I’ll need that too.” You frown at the young man, tersely adding, “And most of all, you better know how to keep your mouth shut.”

The clerk nods again. “Mr. Hiddleston is quite safe here. We wouldn’t ever dream of causing him any problems. He’s very good to us. And we take care of him.”

You smile back at him, relaxing again. “Thanks. Just bring that to my room while I get him settled there.” You give the young man your room number and take off, guiding the reeling Tom with you.

Fortunately, your room is on the ground floor so you don’t have to worry about the steps or an elevator. You’re also lucky in that it’s quite late so none of the other guests is up and about. You lean him up against the wall as you fumble your card key over the reader.

“Oh God,” he groans. “I am so sorry.”

“Shh,” you tell him, trying to be comforting. “You’ve nothing to apologize for. Come on, let’s get you inside.”

“I feel so stupid.”

“You were having fun. Never apologize for that.” You fling open the door and putting an arm around his waist again, you lead him inside, kicking the door closed behind you. “Now then, as soon as room service gets here with the orange juice, water, and aspirin, you’re going to take them.”

“I’ll puke.”

You chuckle to yourself and lead him over to the sofa, to help him sit. “No, you won’t. But you need the fluid and the painkillers. You’ll thank me in the morning.”

He groans again, his face in his hands. “Thank you, by the way. This is very kind of you.” He raises his head for a moment. “I’m sorry, what was your name again?”

You tell him, smiling at him. He nods and lowers his head again. In the meantime, there’s a knock on the door and you get it. Room service wheels in a cart with the items you requested and as an added bonus, a bucket of ice. You sign the guest check and add a substantial tip to the amount, then close the door behind the man. You pour a large glass of ice water, another of the orange juice, and measure out three aspirin in your hand. You manage to bring it all to the sofa and hand Tom the aspirin and the water.

“Now, take these and drink that water first. That’ll help in the morning with the hangover.”

He smiles at you, stifling a yawn, and does exactly what you tell him to do. “Have I seen you before?” he asks.

“I don’t think so,” you answer. “I’ve only just got here. Today, in fact.”

“You look familiar to me.” Tom drinks a little more of the water before adding, “You’re very lovely, you know. But I’m sure you hear that a lot.”

“No,” you tell him. “I don’t. But it’s nice of you to say.”

“And you’re very kind. I am so bloody sorry for imposing like this.”

“Tush,” you tell him. “It’s not an imposition at all. I like being someone’s knight in shining armor.”

“Well, you’re definitely mine,” Tom says, his speech slurring again. He tries, unsuccessfully, to stifle another yawn.

You hand him the orange juice. “Now, drink this. Then, I’m going to tuck you into bed and let you go to sleep.”

He drinks half the glass, the green eyes starting to droop a little. “I really should go back to my own room.” He quickly covers his mouth, a small burp escaping his lips. “Excuse me. I really should, but I don’t think I can make it.”

“No, you can’t,” you agree, trying not to giggle. “Don’t worry. You’ll be perfectly safe here. I promise to be a lady. Now finish the juice and off you go to bed.”

Tom drains the glass and hands it back to you. “I think I need to visit your WC first.”

You leave the glasses on the cart and hold out your hand to him. “Come on, then.”

You don’t notice, until he stands up, how tight those jeans are. They do more than just hug his curves and muscles; they practically show off every glorious inch of him. You can’t help yourself; your eyes are riveted to the soft roll that rises from his crotch to lay over his left hip. He fills those jeans very nicely and you feel the blood beginning to surge in your groin, pounding away. You begin to pant lightly, wondering what it would feel like to have that beautiful cock inside of you. With reluctance, you drag your gaze back to his. Fortunately, Tom is trying to clear his vision and hasn’t noticed.

“Come on. Let’s get you to the bathroom and I’ll go turn down the bed.”

You help him navigate the small seating room to the bathroom and then leave him to his privacy, shutting the door. Once in the bedroom, you open the shutters to let the fresh breezes come rolling in, listening to the sound of the leaves of the palm trees fluttering around. You can smell the rain about to fall; yes, this will make great sleeping weather.

You turn down one side of the bed, debating about the other. That beautiful man is incredibly drunk and very vulnerable. Really, you couldn’t. Well, you _could_ but it wouldn’t be right. But you do need to stay close, after all. In case, he needs anything. Or in case, he does get ill in the night. No, you decide. It’s too hot and besides, you need to do the right thing. You’ll sleep on the chaise lounge in the room, close enough to be there if he needs you.

You hear the bathroom door open and step out of the room to see him standing there, clad in only his underwear – a very modest pair of briefs that do nothing to hide the size of his impressive length. Nothing is hidden; you can tell he’s uncut – never been circumcised – and you have to swallow to keep from drowning in your own saliva. Your eyes travel up from the strong legs and thighs to the muscles of that gorgeous body, noting the tight stomach and the buttery nipples on his chest. You look into those mint green eyes, feeling your self-control ebbing away. God, how you want him right now; and with that small seductive smile on his lips, you can almost believe that he wants you too.

You find the strength to hold out your hand to him – your fingers are trembling from the anticipation of feeling his against them. You take a deep breath to steady yourself and say, “Come on, let’s tuck you in.”

Tom lays his hand on yours, closing it around yours. He takes several tentative steps behind you as you lead him in, and then turn him to back up to the bed. With a rueful grin, he falls backward and bounces a time or two on the mattress before lying perfectly still. With an effort, he allows you to help him slide his legs under the thin coverlet and sheet. You pull them up over his flat stomach and muscular chest, smoothing them over his body.

“I am so sorry,” he mutters sleepily.

“Shh,” you say again. “Stop that. It’s all right.”

“But I’ve taken your bed.”

“I’ll be right here, on the lounge.” You stroke his hair, the soft curls that fall back away from his face. You run your fingers in the tresses, watching the waves formed as you do. His hair is like silk and you can’t stop touching it. You find that you don’t want to. “I’ll be right here. You close your eyes now. Go to sleep. I’ll be right here to keep you safe.”

His vision focuses one more time as he whispers, “Thank you,” to you. Then the lids slip down over his eyes, his long lashes falling against his cheeks. You think he is asleep but one eyelid raises once more to look at you. “You really are very lovely.” The eye closes again and his breathing slows as he falls deep into sleep. His mouth is slightly open and he snores very lightly in his drunken state. He curls one arm up and under the pillow, his hand disappearing under it. His head turns to one side, his face in your full view. You sit on the side of the bed to take it all in.

God, he really is beautiful – even in a drunken sleep. The muscles of his face go lax and the moonlight streaming in gives his skin an unearthly pale glow. His full lips are open and inviting, and you want to kiss him in his sleep. You want to taste the drink he had, the salty-sweet of him, and gently suck his tongue into your mouth to tease and play with it. So angelic, so devilish. You put one hand between your thighs and feel your own hardness; you wish that he would fulfill that desire.

But you won’t do anything. Not like this. For now it’s enough that he’s here, that beautiful man is here. You give in to your single urge, kissing him so softly on the lips so that you don’t wake him. His lips are soft and yielding to your kiss and for a moment, you can almost feel him kissing you back. You trace the indentation from the hollow at the base of his throat down his breastbone with one finger – his skin is so soft and you want to go on touching it all night. You circle one of his nipples and watch it harden from your touch and wonder if his are as sensitive as yours are. To suckle it in your mouth….

You touch the curls once more and then force yourself to step away from the bed. He’ll sleep now and you’ll keep watch. You go to the chaise and settle yourself on it, the rain starting to fall now. You have brought a spare coverlet with you and you spread it out over your lap. One last look over at the sleeping god laying on your bed and you smile. Well, if you can’t have him in the way you truly want, you can have him like this. You watch him for a while, so peaceful and innocent, before sleep begins to take you as well. You lay back against the pillows and close your eyes. Tonight, you’ll dream of that man lying on your bed, that beautiful Tom Hiddleston, and how it would be.

You don’t sleep very deeply, opening your eyes several times in the night to check on your “patient.” He has turned over onto his side, one arm still tucked under his head and the pillow, and the other arm curled over his chest. He looks like such an angel, lying there with that sweet smile on his face. You get up only once to pull the coverlet back over him as the night air has chilled somewhat from the storm. You stroke the curls once more, then go back to your makeshift bad, satisfied that he’s fine and sleeping well.

It seems to be so soon that you feel the warmth on your face as the sun filters through your closed eyes. You lick your lips and hum a little as you slowly come to consciousness. You feel a little stiff, wondering why you’re not sleeping in your bed. You try to get a little more comfortable, not ready to wake yet.

“Good morning, sleepyhead,” says a deep British voice next to you.

You feel someone sitting down by your side and the memory suddenly hits you. Your eyes fly open and there Tom sits, smiling at you. He seems to be no worse for wear; in fact, his skin is damp and his hair is still wet from the shower he’s obviously taken while you were sleeping. To your dismay, he’s dressed in the jeans again but he’s not wearing the tee shirt right now. His chest is most definitely still wet from the shower and you want to lick the water off but manage to restrain yourself.

“Hi there,” you say, your voice still rough from the sleep. “How are you feeling?”

“Bit of a headache but I took some more of the aspirin,” he tells you. He holds out a glass of the orange juice to you. “Thought you could use this.”

You sigh, pulling yourself up into a seating position, and take the glass from him. The first sip refreshes you and the taste is wonderful – fresh squeezed from the local fruit. You make pleased noises in the back of your throat as you enjoy the taste.

“How did you sleep?” Tom asks, watching you.

“Not bad,” you say. “I’m just a bit stiff. I made sure you were all right.”

He tugs at the tip of his nose, looking a bit uncomfortable at that. “Yes, I’m sure. I am so very sorry about last night. I was out with friends – I’m on holiday here, you see. Taking some time to rest before I head to my next movie shoot. We got a bit…well, a bit out of hand.”

You lay your hand over his knee, stopping his words. “You don’t have to apologize to me. I was glad to do it. I’m glad you trusted me enough to let me.”

He smiles at you, the corners of his eyes wrinkling ever so slightly and his teeth perfectly white in the morning light. “Well, I shouldn’t have bothered you. But, thank you so very much for letting me sleep here. It could have been a disaster if—”

“I know,” you say. “But they didn’t see. No one saw. The night clerk was the only one up when you came in and he’s pretty loyal to you. Says you come here a lot.”

“I do,” Tom answers in that warm, clipped voice. “It’s a great place to stay.”

“Well, I’m glad I was there to help,” you tell him. You raise the glass and add, “Thanks for the juice. I was thirsty.”

He winks at you, then stands up. “Well, I have an appointment I have to go to. I hate to just run off like this.”

You are disappointed and try to keep it off your face. “I understand. It was nice to meet you, Tom.”

“It was nice to meet you too.” He takes your hand again, softly kissing your palm. His lips are so gentle against the skin. “If I may impose once more….”

You swing your legs over the edge of the chaise and stand up, your hand still in his. “Anything. Name it.”

He strokes the back of your hand as he talks. “You could have…done quite a few things and I could have had some serious trouble. But you didn’t. And I need to repay your kindness in some way.”

You lower your gaze, feeling your cheeks pink. “Oh, really, you don’t have to.”

“Yes I do,” he answers with a laugh. “I want to take you out to dinner tonight. Please say yes.” He releases your hand to pick up his tee shirt and slips it over his head and arms. “I know a wonderful place, we’ll have privacy and we can talk.” Once the shirt is around him again, he steps in front of you, his gaze locked to yours. With a very seductive smile, he asks again, “Please? Will you have dinner with me?”

“Yes,” you whisper back. “I would love to.”

 

 

_…to be continued…._


	2. Thanks to You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Your fantasy continues with the first date. Ah, Tom and you at that glorious island hideaway.
> 
> Lady Thomas Sharpe  
> © LTS 2014

 

You’ve fussed all day, trying to find the perfect dress. You’ve gone to a very classy women’s clothing shop and spent two hours looking for the perfect outfit to wear. You’ve chosen a slinky black dress that hugs your curves and shows off just enough cleavage and a hem that comes up to mid-thigh on you. It has shirred sides and has a very slimming effect on you. It’s not too tight but still tight enough to let this beautiful man know that you have a sensual side. You also purchase a lovely pair of Italian black leather pumps. The heels are two inches; just enough to show off your legs but not make you too tall for your date.

You’ve splurged and let someone do your hair and makeup for you, something you’ve not done in a long while. The hairdresser has chosen a beautiful upswept hairdo with your hair piled on top of your head, with spills of curls and tendrils framing your cheeks. The makeup artist has given you a soft, glowing foundation that looks so natural to your skin. She’s complemented your eye color with soft shades of eye shadow that make your eyes sparkle. With a touch of a floral perfume, you are a modern day Cinderella waiting for your Prince Charming to take you to the ball.

You’ve rented some jewelry for the occasion – an amethyst teardrop necklace of sterling silver, matching cathedral earrings (also amethyst), and a diamond and amethyst tennis bracelet. One quick look in the bedroom mirror and you are pleased with the appearance. Hopefully, Tom will be impressed as well. You go into the seating area of your room to wait for him, pacing instead of sitting on the sofa because you don’t want to wrinkle the dress. You want to be beautiful for your British Casanova.

A knock on the door announces his arrival and you force yourself to walk slowly to greet him. You open it and see Tom standing there in a black tuxedo, complete with bow tie. He’s wearing onyx cufflinks in the sleeves and studs in the shirt instead of buttons. His hair is stunning, blown back in waves and showing off the blond highlights even more. He’s wearing a pair of leather shoes that glisten with the polish. He looks so handsome right now, so dashing, and he takes your breath away. There’s no way anything can top this moment, you think.

But you find out differently when you see the look in his eyes as he stops whatever he was about to say. A look of enchanted admiration comes over his face as he takes it all in, looking at you from top to bottom. He exhales, a slow smile blooming on his face and he shakes his head.

“You look…amazing, darling,” he murmurs to you in a voice filled with awe. “I can’t believe you did this just for me. You…you really look so lovely.”

You feel the blush in your cheeks and look down, slightly embarrassed. “Thank you, Tom. You look pretty amazing yourself.”

He winks at you, his smile lighting up his face and making the mint green eyes twinkle. “This old thing? Really, I’ve had it for years. Bit of a tosser, this.”

You laugh with him for a moment, as his eyes travel up and down your body again. It’s as if he’s really seeing you for the first time and from the look on his face, you can tell that he truly appreciates your efforts. Maybe you flatter yourself, but he has the look of a starving man facing a banquet and not sure where to start. Which makes you laugh even harder.

He holds his hand out. “Shall we? I have the perfect place to take you for dinner, and I thought maybe a bit of dancing after. I love to dance.”

“So do I,” you tell him. You reach over and get the black sequined clutch that you picked up to go with your ensemble and, after making sure you have your card key inside – along with other needs for the evening – you close the door behind you.

Tom holds his elbow out to you and you slip your hand in the crook of it. He covers it with one of his and walks you to the car that he’s hired to take you to the restaurant. He opens the door for you and hands you in, waiting until you’ve slid over in the seat to climb in beside you. He’s so close that you can smell the tangerine and clove of his cologne; his thigh brushes against yours, so warm and inviting. All you can do is breathe in the heady scent of him and wonder what he has in store for you tonight.

The car pulls up in front of one of the most exclusive restaurants on the island, a five star place called _La Martinique_. You’ve heard about this but never dreamed of eating here. The food is very upscale, made from the local produce and seafood. They import wines from France and Germany, especially some very expensive and rare vintages. You bite your lower lip in anticipation and sneak a peek at your date. He’s smiling as if he’s keeping a secret. You wonder what it could possibly be.

Tom steps out first, buttoning his tux jacket again, and then holds his hand out to you. You slide across and take it, stepping out carefully. You show off a little more leg than you really mean to, noticing the way his glance slides down to admire. You are secretly pleased as he licks his lip, watching as your dress hikes a little higher when you completely step out to stand beside him. You tug the skirt back down to be discreet, but he’s looked away again to close the car door. Well, if he likes your legs that much…, you think.

The maître d’ greets Tom as a much-respected customer and offers to show you to your private table. Tom puts one hand on the small of your back, just above your derriere, and the touch is electric on your skin. You feel it all the way to your toes and the sensation between your thighs is almost overwhelming. His hand is very graceful but still strong as he guides you forward and walks beside you. He still has his secret smile and the mint green eyes are lit with amusement and a very Loki-like amusement. You smile up at him, brushing your fingers against the lapel of his jacket.

“In case I forget to tell you later, I’m having a wonderful time,” you whisper as you walk along. “You really didn’t have to do this.”

“Yes I did,” Tom whispers back. “And I’m very glad I did. Have I told you yet how incredibly beautiful you look tonight?”

“I believe you mentioned it a time or two in the car,” you tease.

He bends his head to whisper directly in your ear and you feel his breath hot against your neck. “Then, I’ll have to make sure I tell you another time or two. You quite take my breath away, darling.”

You arrive at your table and the maître d’ holds out the chair for you to sit in. You sit as gracefully as you possibly can and let the man slide you up to the table. Tom has once again unbuttoned his tuxedo jacket one handed and you can’t help but be turned on by the gesture. He’s so elegant and yet, such a child inside. You watch him take his own seat and pick up the menu lying in front of him.

“Do you mind if I order for us, darling?” he asks, that voice deep and sexy in your ears.

“Please,” you tell him. “I don’t know anything about the menu.”

“Anything you don’t like?”

“Not big on snails,” you answer. “Anything else is…an adventure.”

He smiles broadly, showing perfect teeth and those laugh lines around his eyes again. His laugh is musical, and his body shakes a little when he laughs. He tosses his head back a little, the hair waving behind him as he does. “Well, my dear, we’ll have to make sure it’s a memorable adventure.”

When the server arrives, she introduces herself and asks if you’d like to start with a drink. She stares blatantly at Tom and for a moment, you feel a sharp pain in your chest. How dare she! This beautiful man is _your_ date. How dare she look at him that way? You look back down at the table in front of you, a sharp movement so that you don’t do something stupid, like slap the woman hard. You start to feel a bit insecure – she’s very pretty and you aren’t, you tell yourself.

But you needn’t worry. Tom reaches over and takes your hand in his and your gaze returns to the beautiful mint green eyes. He smiles at you again, his thumb brushing across the back of your knuckles as he orders a bottle of very expensive champagne without even noticing the server. He doesn’t look at her at all, keeping his eyes – and smile – on you alone. He doesn’t notice anyone else in the restaurant at all; he is here only for you. You feel the confidence returning and the anger dissipating. You return the smile and leave your hand in his.

He orders an appetizer of some amazing lobster bisque and the soup arrives with the champagne. You both eat quietly, enjoying the buttery taste of the lobster and the creaminess of the soup, still locked to each other’s eyes. It’s as if the two of you can read each other’s minds, no conversation is needed.

_It’s wonderful, don’t you think?_ his eyes say to you _._

_Yes,_ you answer with your own.

_You really are very beautiful in that dress._

_And you look incredible in that tux. Very dashing._

The main course is a local sea bass, served with a vegetable medley, and he seems very eager that you should be enjoying the food. He takes the time to explain where everything is grown and how it’s prepared.

“I didn’t know you were a gourmand,” you say to him.

Tom grins, taking a bite of the sea bass and humming his pleasure at the taste. He takes a sip from the champagne before answering you. “I can’t cook at all. My mum says I’m hopeless in the kitchen. So I love it when I can learn things from the chefs at restaurants like this.”

“Oh, I’m sure you can cook…in your way.” You wink at him and take a bite of the fish. It’s amazing – light and flakey, firm and delicious.

He raises his glass to you in a silent toast and sips again. “I can cook a few things. After that, the only thing I can make is reservations.”

You return to enjoying the meal. But under the table, you feel his foot against yours as he presses it lightly. You almost swallow a bite the wrong way and have to catch yourself. Tom’s eyes twinkle in amusement but his foot doesn’t move. In fact, quite the opposite as he begins to move it gently and slowly up and down your ankle. He’s teasing you and he knows that _you_ know it. _Two can play that game,_ you think to yourself, and start playing along in the game of footsies under the table. For a second, his eyes widen at your bravado, then he grins at you and the game is on in earnest.

Conversation makes itself. Tom is absolutely charming, asking you about the little details of your life and hanging on every word you say. He listens intently, watching you as you relay small anecdotes about friends, family, things you find fascinating. You find out that you have much in common with him – from his charity work to the kind of music he loves (you also listen to the Rolling Stones and tell him that, getting another one of those charming smiles). You tell him about your first 5K run and he seems duly impressed.

The meal finished, he orders a steaming pot of a lovely smoked tea and asks for the dessert menu. When your server comes back, she sees Tom holding your hand again and gazing deeply into your eyes. You catch her disappointed look out of the corner of your eye and smile inside. This gorgeous man is _with_ you and only has eyes _for_ you. It may be so for tonight only but he is most definitely yours this night.

He ordered a chocolate bread pudding, served hot with a hard caramel sauce, smothered in whipped cream. And of course, another bottle of champagne. You’re starting to feel a bit tipsy from the bubbly but the hot tea and the dessert help keep you from getting too silly. But the attention from this beautiful man is far headier and you are eating this up. He is everything you ever imagined him to be and you don’t want this night to end.

“You know,” he says, interrupting your reverie about what it might be like to kiss the whipped cream off his lips. “I’m suddenly not in the mood for dancing. Are you?”

You sigh in relief. “I don’t think I could dance very well. All of this champagne is going to my head,” you say with a chuckle.

Tom laughs along, the green eyes sparkling. “Do you think you could handle a walk on the beach?”

“Oh yes,” you answer with another sigh. “That would be lovely.”

“Good.” He waves the server over and hands her his credit card. “Then, I say, let’s go.”

He pays the bill and the two of you walk through the restaurant, hand in hand. Once again, he hands you back into the car and sits so close to you, sharing the warmth of his body. But now, he lays one hand on your thigh, just below the skirt of your dress. One finger moves restlessly against your skin, raising goose bumps on the inside of your thigh. _Oh my God_ , you think to yourself, and have to focus on the air threatening to leave your lungs in a whoosh.

Instead of heading inside of the hotel, Tom takes your hand in his and walks you on a path that goes around the outside and down to the beach. You step out of the heels and carry them, rather than wear them in the sand. He follows your example and strips off the shoes and socks from his own feet. Reclaiming your hand, you both walk down to the water’s edge until you feel the warm water lapping against your toes.

“Look up,” he says and you do. The stars are brilliant diamonds against the black sky, twinkling above you. You feel as if you could touch them and you raise your hand up to do so. “So beautiful,” you say, almost to yourself and it surprises you for a moment when you hear him answer, “Yes, very.” You’d almost forgotten you were not alone. And how could that happen when you are with the world’s most beautiful man in the world’s most romantic spot.

You feel a sudden chill and it takes Tom no more than a second or two to take off the tuxedo jacket and place it over your shoulders. He moves to stand behind you, gently rubbing your shoulders as you stare out over the water. His body is so warm and you feel the heat radiating from him. Closing your eyes, you lean back against him and his arms come around your middle, pulling you even closer.

He rests his cheek against your hair and you feel the sigh leave his body as he turns his head to kiss the side of your face. His lips brush your cheek as softly as the breeze; his nose teases in your hair, sniffing the scent of the perfume you wear.

“You could have taken full advantage of my state last night,” he says to you. “Why didn’t you?”

You turn your head slightly, letting your cheek rest against his. “I couldn’t. It wouldn’t be right. It would be no different than if you’d done that to me.” You add softly, “Besides, I like you. How could I do that to someone I like?”

You feel his lips curl up into a smile against your forehead. One hand leaves your waist to travel down your hip, teasing at the hem of your dress.

“Would you think me less than a gentleman to say that I find that very attractive? That you didn’t take advantage?”

“No.”

“Would you think less of me if I told you that I find myself attracted to you? That I can’t keep a gentlemanly thought in my head with you so close?”

“No,” you answer in a hushed tone. “I’m attracted to you as well.”

“I don’t even know you.” He kisses softly at your temple, down your cheek to your jawline. “And yet I feel as if I know everything about you.”

“And?” you ask.

“I want to _get_ to know you.” Tom turns you around to face him. “But I have to know something else first.”

You look up into the green eyes, dark now because of the moonlit shadows. His face glows from the diffused light coming from above. He’s looking deep into your eyes as well, his thumb gently stroking the hollow of your cheek.

“What do—?” you start to ask, but the gentle press of his lips on yours stops the words from coming out. And, oh God, they are so soft against your mouth and the kiss is so tentative at first. Almost a tease and you feel your knees turn to water, so you put your hands on his hips to steady yourself. He threads his fingers in your hair, resting his thumbs on either side of your face, just under your jaw. He brushes his lips against yours several times, humming softly with each touch.

You want to open your eyes but you can’t; you can’t break the spell of the night and the stars and the moonlight. You want to go on kissing him, feeling his lips against yours and the sensation of his breath tickling your upper lip. His mouth rests against yours, both of you with lips parted and you both pant against each other. You are strangely aware of the wind whipping the palm fronds over your head and it feels as if there is a storm brewing – over the water and inside of your thighs.

Then his mouth moves over yours more passionately, claiming your lips for his own. Tom holds your face closer as he teases at your tongue with his. The kiss is long and deep, the taste of him sending your senses reeling. You’re burning hot despite the sudden chill and still, you want to feel his arms around you. You press your hands against the small of his back and it is enough to entice him to release your face with one hand. He lays it against your derriere and pulls your hips closer to his.

That soft roll you saw when you put him to bed is now fully awake and erect against you. His cock presses against your groin and you manage to put a hand down between your bodies to gently caress it. _My God_ , you think, _he is so hard._ Your gentle strokes against the shaft cause him to moan into your mouth and you press harder, your palm against the flat of it and your fingers teasing at his balls. His soft moan turns into a very deep groan in the back of his throat.

Tom breaks the kiss, both of you breathless with want and desire. “I can’t,” he says. “I can’t.” For a moment, your disappointment must register on your body because he chuckles against your neck. “No, no,” he continues. “I mean, I can’t just take you here. Not on the sand. Not like this. I want to seduce you. I want to take you to my bed and seduce you.”

You can barely breathe and you have to lean against him for support. “Then take me there, you beautiful man. Take me to your bed.”

And with that request, he kisses you once more and sweeps you up into his arms. “I think I can walk then. My room is right there.”

“Hurry,” you tell him. “Hurry. I think I’ll melt if you don’t.”

He carries you to the terrace of his hotel room and sets you down just long enough to pull a key from his pocket. He opens the doors and picks you up again to carry you inside the room. He’s left a single lamp on and the light is soft, still leaving things in shadow. His face is a study in passion – lightly flushed and intense. His breathing is ragged and shallow as he gently sets you once more on your feet, then pulls you close for a deep soul kiss. He wraps his arms around you, holding you tight against his chest and once again, you feel the arousal in his groin.

You get rather brave, thanks to the champagne and his wonderful cologne. You stroke his strong back with your hands, reaching up under the tuxedo jacket. Slowly, you lower them, caressing his lower back, his waist, and finally settling them on that delicious ass of his. He’s got a runner’s ass – the muscles so toned and tight, but still able to knead them with your fingers. You indulge yourself by just touching that ass, pulling his hips tighter to yours. God, that cock is so erect and inviting. You want him. You want him in every way possible.

It’s almost as if he can read your mind. Tom breaks the kiss, holding your face in his graceful hands. “Am I going too fast?” he asks, sincere in his concern for you.

You raise your lips and brush them across his as you answer, “I’m a big girl. I can handle myself nicely, thanks.”

He chuckles, that deep throaty laugh of his that turns you on like a radio. “Oh, I’ve noticed your adult status, my darling. That’s not what I asked.”

You pull back a little, still watching his face, his eyes. “You think I only want you for who you are? Is that what you’re worried about?”

He shakes his head slowly – obviously, it is a concern to him. He’s been burned before; you can see it in his eyes.

“No, Tom. You’re not going too fast. And no, your celebrity status means nothing to me,” you coo to him. “You fascinate me because of who you are inside. I would have fallen for you anyway.”

He studies you closely for a few seconds before nodding his head. You’ve passed the test. He lowers his head to kiss you once again, drawing you in. “I do want you.”

“And I want you, Tom. I want _you_.”

He scoops you up in his arms again and turns toward the bedroom.

“The doors,” you remind him.

“I don’t care,” he says and he carries you to the bed.

He lays you down on his bed, slowly peeling off the tuxedo jacket before tossing it to a nearby chair. You inch up the mattress until you’re lying against the pillows, watching him take his time undressing. From the mischievous smile he wears, he knows exactly what he’s doing to you as he takes his time removing the studs from his shirt, then the cufflinks. He opens the shirtfront, pulling it out of the waistband of the trousers. The shirt joins the jacket on the chair and he knee walks up the mattress to where you lay.

The dress you wear is suddenly too tight and you want out of it, so you raise up to him, getting on your knees. You reach behind your head to tug at the zipper, but as usual, he’s already there. His hands are behind you and you feel the zipper slowly sliding against your backbone as his other hand slips the strap down one shoulder. His kisses are sweet against your skin as he makes his way from your arm up to your neck. The dress pools around your knees as removes the strapless bra you have one, unhooking it with the nimble fingers of one hand. You shiver with anticipation as he adds it to the pile of his clothing on the chair.

Tom pushes you to the mattress, bending over you to take one of your nipples in his mouth and his tongue laves your breast, making that nipple hard. He flicks his tongue against the puckered flesh before licking slow, lazy circles around it. He strokes the other breast, running his thumb over the aureole. You throw your head back, your hair coming loose from the pins that have held it. You can’t help yourself as you sigh loud with your pleasure. His hands and mouth are well practiced at this art and he is driving you mad with his talent. You caress his shoulder, and let yourself go to his ministrations.

He neatly makes his way between your thighs, leaving a trail of sweet kisses between your breasts to your belly. He nibbles at your flesh, leaving goose bumps all over. You thread your fingers into the soft curls on his head, encouraging him without words to do as he will. You want him to taste you, lick you like a lollipop, and leave nothing untouched. He lets you know that he wants that too as first, he slips the lace stockings from the garter belt you wear, then peels your lace undies and the belt from your hips.

He slips one of your legs over his shoulder as he rakes his teeth from the sensitive area behind your knee up the inside of your thigh to nibble in the crease where your leg meets your hip. You moan, turning your head to bite the pillow underneath. God, his mouth is doing things to you that you never imagined could be done. And your body is responding to him. Your clitoris is hard, a cherry to his mouth. Tom uses his fingers to tenderly press open the lips of your pussy, sucking that cherry with a joy you’ve always wanted in a lover.

You feel a release coming and shudder as it takes your body, filling you with a warm glow that spreads from your middle out into every inch of you. But he’s not finished, greedily sucking the sticky sweetness of your orgasm and lapping it up from the lips of your quim, his thumb still pressing your clit. You arch your back, trying to bring his mouth even closer. Tom obliges with a deep kiss, still drinking you in. God, he is amazing as he worships your body with his whole being.

He touches you from the inside, two fingers finding their way deep inside and working against the walls of your pussy. He finds that sweet spot and your body convulses around him as he continues to make love to you. You’ve been moaning his name, over and over, with your eyes closed so that you can focus only on the sensations and the pleasure. He brings you to climax twice more, using his hands and his mouth to explore and arouse you. _Oh my God_ , you think, _oh my God_.

You want to pleasure him now and you stop him by lightly tugging on the curls. “Tom,” you whisper. “Please. Please let me have you. Please.”

You are weak at the knees but you manage to move so that you can roll him onto his back. You straddle his hips, leaning forward to press your breasts against his chest and give him a very deep, passionate kiss. You taste the saltiness of your quim on his lips and it excites you that he was so passionate about your body. You want to give him that same exciting pleasure, so you gently suck on his lower lip and then give him one more kiss before making your way down to his chest.

Tom’s nipples are just as hard as yours and you gently pinch one between your thumb and forefinger. He closes his eyes in anticipation, throwing his arms out to either side. “God,” he whispers. “Oh God.”

He has very little hair on his chest and the skin is so smooth and soft. You can’t help but touch it, kiss it, trace patterns with your fingernails as you scratch lightly against his skin. He sucks in a deep breath at the sensation and that sensual mouth opens as he loses himself to what you’re doing to him. He moans slightly when you pull the pins out of her hair and let it fall down around your shoulders, then rake it across his stomach.

It’s now your turn to make your way between his thighs. You unbuckle the belt at his waist, the unbutton the waistband of his tux trousers. You slip your fingers inside and slide them down behind the zipper as you open the front of his pants to give you access to that glorious cock. Tom raises his hips so that you can remove pants and briefs, and it’s your turn to add more to the pile of clothing on the chair. His cock is now unbound and fully erect against the short and curlies of his crotch.

His cock is so beautiful, a dusky rose from the blood that engorges it. You smile, knowing you were right – that he is uncut and the foreskin is a lighter shade of pink. Rising up from the thicket of hair, his size is quite impressive. You reach to it, your fingers trembling slightly as you wrap them around the thick of it. Your thumb rubs at the base of the shaft and you press lightly at the line that runs up the underside, like a seam. He moans slightly, his eyes closed.

Without thought, you lean forward and run your tongue from his balls, up the seam, to the head of his cock. You leave it wet and blow on the trail, making him shiver from your breath. Laying your palm against the flat of his cock, you fondle it in even strokes – up and down the shaft, squeezing lightly at the base. You take the head of his cock into your mouth, flicking the foreskin with your tongue and sucking on it. The blood floods his manhood, making it stiffer in your hands.

Tom grips the sheet in his shaking fists and arches his back. He turns his head to one side and whispers your name in his ardor. You smile around the mouthful of his glorious cock and use your lips to fold the foreskin back. One more puff of air on it and he moans even louder. You lick the now revealed head, reveling in the taste and smell of him. So salty-sweet, like caramel dripping off the end of your finger to run down to your palm, and you take it deeply into your mouth, as much as you can, while stroking the shaft with a little more urgency now.

His ability to speak is limited in his passion; all he can do is moan and call out your name. But then, he speaks one more word. “Stop.” It’s more of a plea than a demand and you do exactly as he asks, raising up to look into the penetrating green gaze. His face is beet red now, his hands extended toward your face. “Stop.” He manages to sit up enough to pull you forward by your shoulders, up to his hungry mouth. Your hair falls over both of you as he claims your mouth again. Then, with one hand guiding his engorged cock, he seats you down over his hips and fills your very wet pussy with it.

Tom guides your hips against his and you move them in rhythm as you take all of his cock inside of you. God, he is filling you from the inside, touching your soul with every part of himself. You rise and fall, meeting his hips with total abandonment. That warmth is spreading through your core and you brace yourself by placing your palms against the mattress on either side of his head. It’s becoming hard to breathe again; the friction between your thighs is consuming you.

In a sweeping movement, Tom grips your hips and turns. You find yourself flat on your back, looking up at him and crying his name. He is on his knees before you and he pulls you closer, bringing your legs over his hips. He enters your wet warmth again and now, he is in control as he thrusts deep inside. You want to lose yourself to the darkness of the room but you can’t – the look on his face, in his beautiful eyes, keeps yours open and watching him as he takes you.

You climax again, crying out in a hoarse whisper. You are panting hard, your heart pounding in your chest as your orgasm shakes you inside. And still he thrusts inside, still rubbing against that sweet spot and you feel the pressure building inside of you again. God, he’s going to make you come yet again and you brace yourself as another wave pours over and in you. The sheet is becoming soaked under your hips and still he thrusts. You scream out again; this time, Tom’s mouth covers yours and he stills inside you as he kisses you deeply.

He resumes the pounding inside of you and you climax one more time, letting the muscles inside of you clasp on to his glorious cock – a dusty rose sword within the scabbard of your quim. Before you can do more than catch your breath as your climax burns you inside, he finds his own release. Tom furrows his brow once, then drops his head as he stiffens and all of his muscles lock in place. With a deep groan, he fills you inside until you think you might burst. Then, he falls forward against you, his head resting beside yours on the pillow and his cock still inside of you, connecting the two of you.

Tom shivers in your arms, his breath heavy in your ears and against your neck. You reach to one side and find the edges of the coverlet that you lay on. You pull them up, just enough to cover the two of you in its warmth. You wrap him in the cocoon you’ve created and gently rub his back as he slowly navigates his way through his orgasm.

“Shh, I have you,” you whisper into his ear. “It’s all right; I’m here. I have you. Shh.”

You kiss the side of his neck where it meets his strong shoulder and close your eyes, one hand on the back of his head and the other still gently working up and down his back with your fingertips. Every muscle in _your_ body is so relaxed that you don’t think you could move if you even wanted to. Your body is still humming from your lovemaking; you could stay like this forever.

Tom raises his head, nuzzling your earlobe. “God, that was amazing,” he whispers in a small gasp of air. “ _You_ are amazing.”

A small chuckle escapes your lips. “You’re no slouch yourself, sir. I don’t think anyone has ever made me get off that many times.”

He smiles against your neck, his breathing becoming a little less ragged. “Never?”

“Never,” you say, your voice still breathy as well.

In one fluid movement, he rolls to your left and turns you over to lie on your side, facing away from him. He spoons around you, cuddling you close and one arm wrapped around you, just under your breasts. Tom’s cheek lies against your hair, your head on his shoulder. With a contented sigh, he kisses your check and settles in.

“Well,” he whispers, “a bit of sleep and I may have to have another go.”

Your curl your arm over his and thread your fingers with his. You are feeling quite drowsy yourself; sleep tugging you below the surface. “A little sleep and I will definitely let you.”

He chuffs a small laugh in your hair. “Does that mean you’ll stay the night with me?”

“If you want me to.”

“Oh I desperately want you to, darling,” he says, kissing your hair. “I simply will not let you go.”

“I’m staying then,” you answer, sighing deeply, and let your body go lax in his strong embrace. _He wants you to stay_ , your mind tells you as the powerful undertow takes you deeper and deeper. You drift into that lovely state of sexual bliss and contented sleep when one more thing breaks through your consciousness.

“Where have you been all my life?” he mutters to himself as he falls asleep around you.

You smile and follow him down.

 

_…to be continued…._


	3. Come Monday

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nothing like a premiere of a movie to show off a new lady in his life. Tom takes you to see his latest movie, but oh, the complications arise. What to do when someone else is putting the moves on your man!
> 
> Lady Thomas Sharpe  
> © LTS 2014

 

WHAT A GLORIOUS TWO WEEKS, spent in your island hideaway. Every day – and every night – spent with your British lover has been a romantic dream come true. Tom is everything you could have ever dreamed of – he’s funny, witty, intelligent, and so romantic that sometimes he makes you cry with the places that he’s taken you and the gifts he’s given you. You’ve had picnics on the beach, in the rainforest; you’ve gone swimming (sans bathing suits) and made love in clear blue rivers and ponds, under a waterfall. He’s spent every waking and sleeping moment with you, in your company and in your bed.

But reality steps in all too soon when he wakes you with soft kisses one morning, taking you into his arms. “I have to leave today. I’m due on the set tomorrow.”

Your heart sinks in your chest. How has the time passed by so quickly. The thought that you might never see him again puts a rock inside of your belly, heavy and leaden. You want to cry. You want to ask the question but don’t dare. After all, this was surely just a romantic affair for him, quickly filed away as a lovely vacation memory and nothing more. But this has meant something to you, something special that’s left you wanting more. You want to tell him that but you’re afraid of his reaction.

“Are you all right?” he asks, suddenly concerned. His brow furrows and he turns your face up to his. “What is it?”

“Oh…,” you say, trying to think of something quickly. Your face is so transparent, every thought and feeling played out there. He’s seen something in your eyes. Does he know?

He must. “Oh darling,” he whispers, kissing you softly – a sweet, lingering kiss that makes your lips tingle. One hand slowly drifts from your cheek to stroke its way down your arm and come to rest on your hip. “Did you think I was just going to walk away from you? After what we’ve shared?”

You look away, embarrassed that he could see so deeply into your soul, your thoughts. But he turns your face back to look at him.

“Is that what you think?”

“Will you be angry if I say yes?” you ask.

He smiles, a rueful smile that doesn’t completely reassure you. “No, I will not. It’s what I would think if things were different.”

“I have no right to ask,” you admit. “You just met me and…well, it wasn’t serious, was it. Just a vacation fling.”

“Darling—”

“No,” you say hastily, trying to cover what you’re feeling. “It’s okay. I understand. I do. Time to go back to the real world.” You blink back tears. “It’s been amazing, Tom. _You_ areamazing.”

He stops your flow of words by pressing his lips to yours, his tongue teasing your lips and dancing inside of your mouth. His hand is at your breast, the thumb slowly working the nipple until it puckers into a sweet raisin. Tom slides closer to you, pressing a very prominent erection against your hips and the short, curly thatch of your quim. You moan into his mouth, reaching around to take one of his firm buttock cheeks into your own hand. Your fingers gently knead the muscle as you lightly slip one leg over his.

His kiss deepens as he claims your mouth and your body for his own. He pulls your leg up higher until it lays across his hip. It gives him easier reach between your thighs as his hand leaves your breast to slide down to your pussy. His thumb presses hard against your bud while his fingers restlessly stroke the lips beneath. It gets harder and harder for you to breathe as the blood pounds under his hand. You are getting wet from his expert touch and it’s so hard to lie still as he relentlessly fondles you.

What is it about this man that makes you crave his touch, his kiss? He’s become more than just some actor to lust after, watching his movies endlessly while you fantasize about such a moment as this. In the space of two short weeks, he’s become a deep need in your soul. You’ve done something that few people have ever done – you’ve gotten a glimpse into the man that Tom Hiddleston really is. And you’ve fallen more deeply than you could ever have imagined.

You trace your fingers down his chest, one finger playing across the small hairs between his breasts, down his belly, and into the short and curlies of his pubic triangle. It’s his turn to moan, his eyes closed as he surrenders to your touch. You take his cock, rising up in anticipation of slipping within your moist folds, in hand and stroke up and down the shaft of it. To think that you might not ever have this again makes this moment bittersweet…and you banish that thought from your head as quickly as it popped in.

He rolls over on his back, taking you with him, and now you’re on top as you fondle his fully erect penis. You sit up, looking down into the half lidded eyes, listening to his heavy panting and continuing your massage. His chin slowly tilts up as he raises his head, groaning with pleasure. You are throbbing inside – you have to have him in you one more time before he walks away from you.

You raise your hips just enough to guide the length of him inside of you and you slide down on the erect shaft of his cock. He fills you up with his manhood, filling up your heart and soul at the same time. You rise and fall, your fingers laced with his, as you both ride each other. It’s a whirlwind as you move within and around each other, faster and faster…deeper and deeper. Your eyes close as you let your hips move against his, as you shut out everything else in the room but the feel of his cock inside your quim, the sound of his moans and his panting. The smell of his musky sweat. The squeezing of his fingers around yours. Faster. Deeper.

He releases inside of you, stiffening as his orgasm shakes him to the core. You feel his shudders begin inside of you and you have your own release, spilling your honey to mingle with his cream inside of you. You fall forward over his chest, your head resting on his shoulder as your cheek presses against his collarbone. You both are gasping for air as the afterglow takes you, heats you from within. You don’t want to lose this glorious lover from your life. You can’t. You just can’t. He can’t leave you.

The sweat slicks your bodies; his cock still inside of you connects the two of you in body and soul. You don’t want to move, don’t want that feeling to go away. Tom’s arms come around you, keeping you pressed against him – he doesn’t want it either, you think. You won’t move. You’ll stay this way for as long as he allows it, as long as you can. Connected. Together. One flesh, one soul.

You feel him stir and you open your eyes to see the pink tip of his tongue dart out of his mouth. It slowly traces the curve of his upper lip, leaving the trail of moisture behind, then slips down to the lower lip. He pulls his tongue and lip into his mouth, raking the bottom of his mouth with his teeth as he releases it again. You feel that longing again and want to kiss those lips, those beautiful lips. You want to suck that tongue into your mouth once more before you let him go back to his world.

Almost as if he can hear your thoughts, sense what you’re thinking, he opens his beautiful minty green eyes and turns the gaze on you with a faint smile on those sensual lips. You raise your head, lifting one corner of your mouth in a sad smile.

“I wish I could stay here forever,” he whispers. “Just you and I. Alone. Here in paradise.”

You reach up and touch his cheek, feeling the rasp of his morning beard against the tips of your fingers. “With me?”

He captures your hand, kissing the inside of your palm. “With you.” He turns back to his side, depositing you there and breaking the connection as his cock, now resting against his hip – so soft and dusty rose, still glistening from your joining. “I am not walking away from you. I want to…I don’t want to leave you.”

You didn’t expect that and your heart starts racing, leaving that post-lovemaking sleepiness in the dust. “Really? Promise?”

He chuckles, pulling you back into his arms. “I promise. I like you. A lot. I…I want to see what we might have.”

“So do I,” you whisper to him, thrilled that he does care. “So what we do?”

Tom plays with your hair, saying nothing for a few moments but gazing deep into your eyes. You’re almost afraid to hear what he has to say.

“I need to go to my movie shoot. I wasn’t really expecting to meet anyone and….” He slips the tip of his tongue between his lips again, a thought behind his eyes. The smile returns, this small lines around the outer corners of his eyes crinkling in such an endearing way. “I’m going to give you my cell number – we’ll text every day. I’ll call you as often as I can. It’s been a little intense and…I just need to….”

You nod at what you know he’s trying to say. “I know, me too. It’s been really intense and I want to be sure that it’s not just a summer fling for me too.” You touch his cheek again. “You are an amazing man, Tom Hiddleston. I want to be sure that I want you for the right reasons. You know?”

He kisses your lips again, a gentle press that makes you quiver inside. “I think you’re bloody amazing too, darling. I can’t see me being without you, but this is so fast. You know, women throw themselves at me constantly. It’s…confusing sometimes.”

“Did I do that?”

“No, God no.” He seems shocked that you would think such a thing. “No, you didn’t. Remember? I chased after you!” he adds with a smile.

You press against him again, your arm around him. “Yes you did. But I don’t think I was running that fast, really.”

His laugh is so musical. “You need some time to think and I need to focus on this movie. I promise – I’ll call you and we’ll text. And then when the shoot is done, I’ll come to where you are. We’ll see how we feel and, well…if it’s still as strong, we’ll take the next step? Is that all right?”

You throw your arms around his neck and kiss him passionately as he holds you back. When the kiss breaks, you pull back and smile. “I think that will be just fine.”

~*~

Going back to your life was a drudgery. You returned home just in time to get a good night’s rest and go back to your job the next day. Friends were glad to see you, coworkers wanted to hear all about the vacation and see all of the pictures you took. You spend the next two weeks catching up with them all and sharing most of the fun bits of your time away.

You don’t share about Tom. That part, you want to keep it secret and all your own. But your best friend makes a note that you seem to be glowing. She asks you if you “got laid or something” while you were gone. You smile but say nothing. She knows, she says. You found a boyfriend, she says. But you won’t tell her. You use the excuse that you’re not ready to talk about him yet. She understands and lets the matter drop. But you still see the curiosity when she talks to you. _Maybe one day_ , you think. _But not now. For now, I just want him._

True to his word, he texts several times a day with tender and passionate messages. He misses you, he says. He wishes the shoot were over so that he could come to you. He sends a few naughty ones with suggestions of what he will do to your body when he at last is by your side. He sends pictures from the set, sends you little gifts via iTunes of songs he’s listening to and wants to share with you. Tom calls you several times during the week and you talk for an hour at a time while he winds down to fall asleep. Dreaming of you, he says.

It’s all heady for you, and sometimes you pleasure yourself, dreaming of his fingers touching those places instead. You ache for his touch, your body missing his. In your dreams, you can still taste his kisses and feel his cock inside of you, filling you up and connecting the two of you. You’re lonely for him; you miss his laughter. You miss waking up next to him, seeing his long lashes against his cheek as he sleeps on the pillow beside you. The phone calls and texts aren’t enough but you hold on to the promise of the next call, the next text…the day when he’s coming to spend time with you. Maybe, one day, you’ll be with him always.

Barely three weeks into the separation, all communications suddenly stop. He stops calling and doesn’t answer your voice mail messages. You text to him but there are no return texts. It’s as if he’s fallen off the face of the earth. After two weeks, you give up hope. He’s lost his feelings for you, you decide. He’s found someone else. Your heart feels ripped in half, a pain in your chest that settles in your belly. Well, you tell yourself, you’ll always have the memories of that wonderful vacation on the island. For a short time, you were with the most wonderful and perfect man you could possibly know. You cry every night for a while, eat a lot of chocolate chip ice cream, and dream of Tom.

One day, you wake up with a new vigor. You’ve done nothing wrong; it just wasn’t meant to be. And you tell yourself that you are not going to lay around waiting for someone that no longer wants you. You stare at yourself in the mirror as you get ready for work that morning – you’re not unattractive at all. You like to run in the evenings, after it’s cool outside. You go to the gym three times a week. You’ve kept yourself quite well. No, just because _he_ no longer desires you doesn’t mean you are undesirable.

So you put yourself back out on the market, dating two or three men who’d been after you for a while. You’d never been very interested in them before, but you need fun and romance. Perhaps these men can give those things to you. So you take your new wardrobe that you bought on vacation, your new hairstyle, and go out to paint the town with all three. After all, why should you settle down? You don’t want to.

But Tom is always in the back of your mind. You try not to compare your new boyfriends with him but you can’t help it. One has a dazzling smile, but it’s not as bright as Tom’s smile. Another has a graceful walk and loves to dance, but he doesn’t have Tom’s grace. He can’t dance like Tom, doesn’t have Tom’s sensual body or those amazing hips. The other is witty but he’s not as intellectual as Tom and his conversation isn’t as entrancing as Tom’s is. Face it, you’re spoiled; wanting the one man you can’t have and no one else will ever compare to him.

Three months have passed by since your island idyll. You’ve crawled back out of your shell, back into the world. The pain is lessening and the pictures on the internet of that beautiful man no longer dig a hole in your heart. It’s getting easier to move on. While you’ve not bedded any of the three, you decide that maybe it’s time to do that too. You need to let go and enjoy these soon to be lovers in more than just words.

You’ve made a date with one of your three boyfriends; he’ll be there to pick you up soon. You’ve put on your favorite dress – a cobalt blue silk that hugs your curves nicely, leaving your shoulders bare as the material falls down over them. You’re wearing your hair up with small tendrils falling down around your face. You’ve also found a jewelry shop that will let you rent a sapphire necklace – a large teardrop shaped stone, surrounded by diamonds, dangling from a platinum chain – with matching earrings.

You have a bottle of champagne in the fridge for later, along with a chocolate truffle cake that you picked up at your favorite bakery. You’re going to wine and dine this date in style, ready to give your body to him. It’s going to be a special night, you decide. One that neither of you will forget. You like this one; there’s potential there. Just the thing to pick up the pieces of your life with.

You’ve just barely finished with your make up, and are in the middle of adding the jewels when you hear a tap on your front door. You smile; your new beau is here a bit early. You make a dash to open the door as you say, “I’m not quite ready—” and freeze. You look up into the face of that beautiful man as he smiles back at you. “Tom—,” you manage to get out, completely stunned.

Tom Hiddleston stands on your front porch, looking very much like a boy who knows he’s done wrong. He’s dressed in the one thing he knows will get to you and make you weak in the knees – that black tuxedo with the bow tie. He’s cut his hair short but still long enough that it curls slightly. He holds out a bouquet of roses to you.

“You must be very angry with me right now,” he says, looking up at you from under his lashes, his head bowed down. “I would be. I’m hoping you’ll let me apologize and explain.”

“Tom,” you start, still stunned into silence. You don’t know what to say to him. You can’t believe he’s here.

“I know. I know. I didn’t call or return your texts. But I never forgot you, never stopped caring about you or wanting you.” He’s looking down at his shoes. “I want to explain, make this up to you. If you still want me, that is.”

You open your mouth, trying to find something to say to him. The feelings are returning with a vengeance and you want nothing more than to rip the clothing from his body and make love to him right here on the front porch. The words simply won’t come out of your mouth.

He looks back up into your eyes when you don’t speak and he suddenly realizes the change when he sees how you’re dressed. A look of hurt comes into his eyes for a moment and is gone just as quickly. “You’re going out. You…have a date?”

That finally frees your tongue. “Tom, I didn’t hear from you for three months. _Three months._ Can you understand how that made me feel?”

That little boy look hasn’t left his face and it’s getting to you. “I know. I do know.” His eyes roam over your body in sincere appreciation. “Do you want me to leave?”

You shake your head, laughing at his obvious discomfort. “You silly man! How can you ask such a dumb question?” You step back from the door and gesture to him. “Hell no, I don’t want you to go. Get in here. I have to make a phone call.”

He comes in, flowers in hand, and you close the door behind him. He holds the flowers out to you and you smile, taking them from him. “Go fix yourself a drink. I’ll put these in water and cancel my date.”

He smiles at you, a rueful smile with that boyish charm. He goes to pour himself a Jamieson’s, adding ice to the glass. You take the flowers to the kitchen, along with your cell phone, and make the phone call while you arrange them in a vase. You say you’re sorry, meaning every word you say, and give a half-lie/half-truth to him – an old friend is in town, someone you haven’t seen in years and you need to cancel. You apologize profusely but he takes it well, saying he understands.

You end the call, agreeing to call back later, and turn back to add water to the flowers. You feel badly about canceling the date but you have to stay with Tom. If only to get answers before he leaves you again. But in your heart, you know it’s going to be more than that. At least, you hope it will. _Is he really upset about not calling me_ , you think to yourself. He seems to be. He seems to be just as unnerved as you are about this, just as awkward. No, you have to know. You have to have the answers.

You come back into the living room, placing the vase of roses on the coffee table before your sofa. He hands you a drink – the same thing he’s having – and you thank him. You gesture to the sofa. “Have a seat.”

“Darling, I have to explain this to you.”

“All right,” you say to him, seating yourself on the sofa. “But we can be comfortable, can’t we?”

Tom takes a sip from his drink before he sets it down on the table, next to the flowers. He gets down on one knee before you. He takes the drink from your hand and sets it beside his own. Then, he takes one of your hands in both of his. You take a deep breath, lost in those green eyes and the touch of his hands on yours.

“First, I have to say once again that I am so sorry that it seems as if I abandoned you. Darling, I didn’t want to. You must really hate me right now.” He kisses your palm. “And I don’t blame you. Not one little bit.”

You roll your eyes, laughing at him a little. “Tom, I do _not_ hate you. And you’re cheating, you know.”

His smile is small, shy. “Is it working?”

You lean forward, touching his cheek. “Just tell me the truth.”

He nods, a weary sigh escaping his lips. “It was a hard shoot, darling. I had a great deal of physical work to do, a lot of fight training and choreography. I went to bed late every night and rose just as exhausted. The little free time I had was spent doing promotion for this new movie opening next week – which is to say, I had none.”

You slide forward on the sofa cushion until he is poised between your knees, his hands coming to rest on your hips. You continue to stroke his hair as he looks up into your eyes. The anger and hurt that you’ve held inside – that you didn’t even know had been fermenting inside – begin to drain out of you. It’s exhausting, this release of the emotions, and freeing to your soul. It feels good to let it go.

Those green eyes hold you and you look deep within them. You remember a saying that your mother used to tell you, how the eyes were the windows to the soul. His eyes are so expressive, so open to you right now. It’s as if he’s thrown caution completely to the wind and allowed himself to be vulnerable to you. So you look; you fall into the sea of green peering up at you and you look.

The one thing you have loved about Tom since the day you met him is that he has always been open to you. He couldn’t lie to you without you knowing. And you have no reason to doubt him now.

“I believe you, Tom,” you murmur to him. “I believe you.”

The expression on his face changes slightly as he’s almost afraid to believe _you_. He says nothing, waiting.

You lean forward, kissing his lips gently. “I believe you. I forgive you.”

You pull him into your arms, one hand still wrapped in the curls on his head, and the other caressing his back, up and down his spine. With a sigh, he relaxes and falls into your embrace. His head rests against your shoulder; his arms come around your waist and he holds you tightly to him. You kiss his forehead and put your arms around his shoulders, resting your cheek against his hair.

“Oh, you silly man,” you say to him, kissing his forehead again. “Whatever am I going to do with you?”

He laughs quietly, his body shaking in your arms. You hear him sniff and realize that he’s crying.

“Tom? Hey, what is this? Come on now,” you say, suddenly maternal towards him. “Tears? Oh, you beautiful man, why are you crying? Hmm? What’s wrong?”

“I was…afraid,” he admits with a weak laugh. “I thought I might be too late or that you’d…oh, I don’t know. I thought you might tell me to go to hell and be done with me.”

You lean back a bit, making him turn his head to see you. “I should,” you tease.

“But you won’t?” he asks hopefully.

You kiss him hard, letting him know that the last thing you want to do is say such a thing to him. He plunges his hands in your hair, releasing it to fall down around your shoulders. The kiss deepens as he struggles to his feet, but once he’s up, he sweeps you into his arms and carries you back to your bedroom.

He peels your dress from your body, then your panties, the garter belt and stockings, and finally your bra as he kisses each part of your body that he exposes. He makes love to you, not caring about his own pleasure. He touches you, licks you, suckles you, kisses you. He starts at your toes and nibbles his way up the sensitive places of your knees, your thighs, your lower lips. He gives your pussy a deep soulful kiss that has you practically screaming into the pillow you hold to your mouth. He brings you to orgasm several times before he steps back to remove his own clothing.

You are exhausted but you want more. Your body has craved his for so long, for three months. He was gone from you for three months, leaving you empty and alone. You understand what a junkie must feel like, to have this drug in your veins and know that nothing could ever satisfy that need but the drug. Tom Hiddleston is your drug. No matter how tired you are, you can’t get enough of him. You want sleep but you have to have the fix first. Always.

Tom does a slow striptease for you, slowly removing his own clothing for you. His gaze is desperately locked to yours, keeping you from closing your eyes. You cannot look elsewhere; you are compelled to maintain the eye contact to keep believing that he’s really there. You reach down to the fork of your loins and stroke yourself, making yourself hard and wet again, knowing that he’s watching you do it. The adrenaline flows through your blood and you get yourself off twice before he slowly crawls up the bed to between your legs.

Tom slides his hard erection inside of you, lifting your legs to rest on his shoulders. He holds on to your thighs, plunging deep inside of you – he’s slow and gentle at first but with each groan of pleasure that comes from your lips, he begins to pump harder inside of you. He lifts your arse off the bed, still thrusting deep inside. You grip the sheets in your fists, your head turning to one side, as you ride the wave of your pleasure. You come twice more before he finally has his own orgasm. With a sound like the cry of a feral cat coming from the back of his throat, he throws his head back and locks inside of you. He remains like that for what seems like forever before finally collapsing on the bed beside you.

It’s your turn to pull the covers over the two of you and you lay back down, snuggled against his chest with his arms wrapped tight around you. You have no idea how long this will last this time, but you don’t care right now. He’s here. He’s here with you in your bed and he’s not leaving. At least for right now. He’s not leaving and he’s folded around you like the blanket you lay under. You feel your body going lax, your mind following behind when you hear a whisper, someone speaking your name.

You swim back up from the depths of the sleep that keeps pulling at you. You turn your head, your hand going back to touch his hip and his beautiful derriere. “What’s wrong, Tommy? Are you okay?”

He kisses your cheek, humming with his contentment before answering. “I want you on my arm next week. I want to show you off to the world. It’s time.”

Your eyes fly open and turn toward him a little, to see his face. He opens his eyes as well, smiling at you.

“Say that again,” you tell him. “What did you just say to me?”

He laughs softly, pulling you close again. “My latest movie opens next week and I have to go walk the red carpet at the premier in LA. I want you to go with me. I want to step out of that limo with you on my arm, walking beside me. I want the world to see that I’ve finally found some happiness. Will you come? Will you come with me to see it? Please?”

You feel the muscle of his buttock under your hand, his sweet cock now at rest again against your hip. He’s here. He’s right here. And he wants you with him. He wants you to go with him so that he can let everyone know that you are his and he is yours.

“Yes,” you breathe and feel his smile against your cheek. “Yes, I’ll go.”

The last thing you hear as you fall into a contented, satisfied sleep is his whispered, “I love you.”

~*~

 

 

Los Angeles is everything – and nothing – like you imagined. It’s _huge_ , loud, and fast. You’ve been in large cities before but LA dwarfs them all. From the moment you step off the plane, you feel a little intimidated by the hustle and bustle around you. If not for Tom’s presence, you would have said, ‘thanks but no thanks’, and got back on the plane and gone home. All you have to do is look to that beautiful man standing next to you and the panic leaves.

He’s like a big kid; he seems so genuinely happy to have you there. He held your hand the entire time on the plane ride west. The two of you snuggled and talked of many things to pass the time. He even insisted that you take a nap and held your head on his lap while you did. True to his word, he keeps an arm around you to show you off to the world. The constant presence of the paparazzi makes you as nervous as being in LA, but he shields you from a lot and lets you know it’s going to be all right.

The studio has put Tom in a beautiful suite at the Hyatt Regency – a bedroom area separate from the seating area, huge bathroom with a large Jacuzzi tub. You arrive the day before the premiere, so the two of you take full advantage of that tub. In some very wonderful ways, with candles and a bottle of Jamieson’s. You even get in a little sightseeing – Tom has been to LA quite a few times and knows what places might interest you.

He’s determined to splurge on you for the night. He takes you out to some shops on Rodeo Drive to find the perfect dress – an off the shoulder cocktail dress of robin egg blue silk with geometric patterns in Swarovski crystals around the neckline. You find a pair of matching heels and a purse to wear, along with some silver chandelier earrings and choker length silver necklace with an emerald cut blue topaz. Thanks to the hotel concierge, you’ve found a hair salon close to the hotel. Tom drops you off and the stylist gives you a flowing style – sweeping your hair to one side in a very intricate braiding that falls over the shoulder. She also does your make up for the evening, the perfect look that sets off your cheekbones and eyes but doesn’t make you _look_ as if you’re wearing makeup.

When you emerge from the bedroom, dressed in your clothes and finery, Tom is waiting. He is dressed in a three-piece suit of black, complete with silk tie. Your mouth dries up as you take him in – he is so sexy in that three-piece. Tall and dashing, you can’t stop looking at him. And of course, the trousers can’t hide his length. It’s all you can do to keep from pressing against him.

But his reaction to your appearance makes you smile. The moment he sees you, he puts down his glass and stands open-mouthed. You’re a little embarrassed at first, shy and nervous as you walk over to him and do a small turn on one heel. He looks you up and down, an appreciative smile coming to his lips.

You take a deep breath and wait, but when he says nothing, you look down to the floor and ask, “Is this okay? Do I look all right?”

You hear his gasp and then, he says, “All right? Oh, darling, you look far better than all right. You are stunning. You are beautiful. You make every other woman that will be there tonight look plain.” He takes one of your hands in his, tenderly kissing the back of it, and you gaze up into his eyes. His face is lit up as he takes you in. “I am going to be the luckiest man there tonight. I am escorting a goddess.”

You roll your eyes but warm under his compliment. You kiss his lips with a soft brush of your own in thanks, then slip the chain of your bag over your shoulder. He hold out his elbow to you and you put your hand in the crook of it. He leads you out and down to the car waiting for you, and you’re off.

The drive through LA takes you through other places and you have a terrible time trying to stare out both side of the car, seeing famous sites all over the place. Tom laughs and starts pointing them out to you, so you snuggle back against him, your hand in his, and watch. The drive to the theater isn’t that far and the car deposits the two of you right on time. He steps out first, following his publicist/handler, and then he turns and extends his hand to you.

Fans of all the actors line the streets but Tom’s are the most vocal. You have a moment of panic – what will they think when they see you on his arm? He simply smiles down at you and hands you out of the car. You look out over a sea of smiling faces and hear them cheering. They don’t seem to be upset at all. Maybe they share his joy at, as he said it, finally finding some happiness. That warms your heart to know he thinks that of you.

He holds tightly to your hand, anxious not to lose you along the way as he stops to answer questions or sign autographs. He doesn’t introduce you but you know that’s only because he is a very private person. Then, he has your hand again and you’re off, waving to the crowd and smiling. When you reach the doors of the theater, he turns around one more time to wave and then you both enter.

Tom’s new movie is a romantic comedy, his first in a contemporary setting after his career took off. You’re just as excited to see this one, as he is to have you see it. He laughs when you stop to get some popcorn and a soda – after all, you tell him, you can’t watch a movie without your favorite snacks. He whips out his credit card and pays for it, adding a soda for himself, and you head into the theater and take your seats.

The movie is delightful, Tom playing a slightly befuddled college professor with a woman in his class that’s just auditing his course and makes his life a bit miserable by challenging him at every turn. The story develops as she drags him out of his shell into the world and he discovers that she’s not as prickly as she seems. They fall in love and by the end of the film are romantically together. You get a few twinges every time his character kisses hers, but you shake your head, laughing at yourself over it. The movie is great and you resolve to add that to your DVD collection when it comes out.

There is an after-party across the street at a very posh pub – the studio has booked it for the night, inviting an A list of celebrities, along with the press. True to his word, Tom escorts you inside, making sure _everyone_ sees that he is with you. And he introduces you to everyone as his ‘lady’, which warms you even more inside. This night is too good to be true, but you’re having a wonderful time. All because of Tom.

He introduces you to Nathan Fillion, someone you’ve always wanted to meet because you were a big _Firefly_ fan and you love _Castle_. He’s standing with director Joss Whedon, another favorite you’ve always wanted to meet. Tom has gotten you both a drink, so the four of you stand talking about the film. Tom helps you get over your nervousness by telling little anecdotes about both of your new companions and they laugh along. They go out of their way to make you comfortable as well and you find yourself drawn to their easy charm and conversation.

You hear a female voice speak Tom’s name and turn your head to see his female co-star from the movie. She whispers something in his ear and he looks around the room for some reason. He nods in a direction and then leans over to whisper in your ear.

“Carrie needs to talk to me, darling. I’ll be right back.” To Nathan and Joss, he says, “Would you two mind keeping her company for a moment? Little problem to take care of.”

“Of course,” Nathan replies, smiling.

Tom takes off with the woman, stopping only a few feet away and where you can see him (and he can see you). Both Nathan and Joss keep up a steady stream of conversation with you – asking about where you’re from, how you met Tom (which you immediately skip the details of his drunken night on the island and go right to the dinner part), and share similar stories. Both men have you giggling like a schoolgirl as they talk about _Buffy_ and _Firefly_ in great detail. They share some great gossip with you, even the story about how Nathan got his nickname of ‘Captain Tightpants’.

But the entire time, you spare occasional glances in Tom’s direction. The conversation with Carrie seems to be quite intense and your curiosity is piqued but you know better than to interrupt. Whatever it is, she seems to be a bit upset about something and Tom is doing his best to calm her down. _He is such a good friend, a dear man_ , you think to yourself and turn back to your conversation with Joss and Nathan.

Another glance, however, changes things as a movement catches your attention. Carrie steps closer to Tom, dropping one hand to his waist. You watch with a sinking feeling as her hand slides down from his waist to his hip and stays there. It’s such an intimate gesture that you hear that voice in the back of your head say ‘ _he’s slept with her!_ ’ Your moment of happiness suddenly crashes at your feet; your heart is broken in two. And you decide that you have to be anywhere else but here.

You excuse yourself, thanking your two companions and telling them that you suddenly don’t feel well. You know Tom will come back looking for you, so you charge them with telling him that you’ll be back at the hotel. Your stomach is roiling and you feel as if you’re going to throw up – so it’s not completely a lie. But the reason is your burden and you leave your glass on the bar and turn to walk out.

How could he? How _could_ he? No, not him – _her_. How could _she_? Everyone in the bar saw that he was with you, so why the hell would she do this? But what hurts you most is that he didn’t step away from her touch. He stood there as she did it, allowed her to touch him that way. The first stab of jealousy worms its way into your chest and you have to stop for a moment, bracing yourself against a wall to keep from crying or falling over. You desperately need some air, you tell yourself, and walk out the door.

You stand out under the stars, gulping in the cool night air and trying to calm your pain and anger. Damn it and you were feeling the first stirrings of love over this man. The crowds are now gone, and the peace and quiet is maddening. You breathe slowly and feel the tightness begin to ease. The door to the pub opens behind you and you reach up to blot your tears with your palm. You don’t have to turn around to know Tom has followed you outside.

“Darling, where did you go? Why did you leave? Nathan said you’re not well? Do we need the car? I’ll—” He stops short. “Darling?”

You turn to face him and he sees the tracks of your tears in the makeup. You can’t hide it, so you might as well tell him.

“Darling? What is it? What’s upset you?”

“You slept with her, didn’t you,” you blurt out.

His eyes widen in surprise that you would ask that question. He stammers for a moment before he sighs and answers. “Yes. But it was a long time ago. This is the second time we’ve worked together. I swear to you, we’re just friends.” He gestures back toward the door. “She’s married now, my love. That’s what she wanted to talk to me about – her husband is….” He stops talking and drops his hand back to his side. “Please tell me that you’re not jealous…please.”

“Tom, I don’t care that you slept with her,” you tell him in measured tones – even though a part of you really _does_ care. “Tell me that it didn’t happen after we met and I’ll believe you—”

“It didn’t,” he insists. “I told you, that was a long time ago. She’s married now. Happily married.”

You take a huge exhale of relief and smile to yourself. You walk over to him, putting your arms around his waist and laying your cheek against his shoulder. He hesitates for a split second before folding his arms around you, resting his head against your hair.

“What is it, my love?” he asks.

“I’m sorry,” you answer. “It’s just that she touched you. She put her hand on a very personal place, a place that only a lover touches you. It just seemed like she…she still had feelings for you. And yes, I got jealous. But I was hurt more that you didn’t stop her.” You raise your head to look into his eyes. “She touched you here—” You place a hand tenderly on his waist, under the jacket. “—and then she did this—” You mimic the gesture of sliding your hand seductively down to the curve of his hip.

“Oh,” he says, as if he finally understands.

“I want to be the only one who touches you that way, Tom. Me. Can you understand?” You’re trying not to cry again, but you can’t help it. Tears slide down your cheeks.

He takes a handkerchief from his back pocket and touches it gently to your face, smiling down at you. “Oh, you silly girl. I perfectly understand. To be honest, I didn’t even pay attention to it. I was watching you talk to Nathan and Joss while I was listening to her. And do you want to know what I was thinking the whole time? When I should have been listening to my friend and helping her with a concern?”

You sniff a little, trying to breathe through your stuffed up nose. “What?”

Tom bends his head to brush his lips against yours and places a hand against your cheek. “I was thinking how beautiful you are and how no woman in the place could even come close to that beauty. I was thinking how much I wanted to take you in my arms at that moment and cover your face in my kisses.”

That brings the smile to your lips and you see his face change from nervous to romantic need. “You were? Really?”

He kisses you softly again, stroking your cheek with his thumb. “And I was thinking that I couldn’t wait to get you back to the hotel.” He guides your hand down to his groin and you feel the erection he’s sporting right now. “I was thinking how we haven’t enjoyed the use of the sofa for a little game of ‘hide the sausage’.” He winks at you in a leering way and you giggle.

“Tom—”

“There is nothing there, my darling. I love _you_. I want _you_.” He pulls you close to his chest. “Yes, I slept with her long ago but that was just a short affair. I had just broken up with someone I thought I was in love with.” He holds you back again so that he can look into your eyes, so that you can see that he’s telling you the truth. His words come pouring out of him as if he’s afraid you’ll walk away. “But I am in love with you now. I want only you. Please, you have to believe me. I’m so sorry that you saw that and I’m so sorry that I didn’t stop her. I just didn’t think—”

You put your finger to his lips and he just watches you. You remember a line from one of your favorite Shakespeare plays – _Much Ado About Nothing_ – and with a smile, gaze into those beautiful eyes and say, “Peace! I shall stop your mouth.”

You take his face in your hands and pull him down to press your lips to his. Your kiss claims his mouth, his body, and his soul, and he gives them all willingly to you. He touches you in those intimate places that belong to him now, given freely to this beautiful man. He doesn’t have to say it but you know just the same – this will never happen again. His body is yours; his soul is yours. This kiss leaves you both breathless and when you both pull back, you cling to each other as a lifeline to each other.

“Do you really want to go back in there?” he whispers in your ear.

“Not really,” you whisper back.

“Good. I can’t wait any longer. I have to have you. I have to. Let’s go.” He waves his hand in the air and the limo that brought you pulls up to the curb. He hands you back into the car and drops into the seat beside you. “Driver, would you do me a favor and put up the privacy shield?”

“Yes, Mr. Hiddleson,” is the deep reply.

“And take a very, _very_ long drive.”

“Yes, Mr. Hiddleston.”

The barricade that separates the back area from the driver’s seat comes up and you feel the car take off.

“Now then,” Tom says, tugging at the tie around his throat. “Let me show you just exactly how much I do love you.”

With a practiced hand, he pulls the knot loose on his tie and pulls it from around his neck. The suit coat and the vest follow the tie onto the jump seat, landing in a disheveled pile of material. Before you can even blink, he’s between your thighs, pushing your dress hem up and plucks your panties down until he can slip them off around your feet.

“Yes,” he says again, breathless with want. “Let me show you how much I love you.”

Your pussy is exposed and he begins to nibble on the lips of it, licking slowly up and down to taste you. You throw your head back against the seat and slide your hips closer to his mouth, your legs draped over his shoulders. His tongue darts in and out, going deep inside of you as he laps up the honey from your loins. He is humming a tune that you don’t quite recognize but it doesn’t matter, you are so lost in his mouth on that part of you that you feel yourself slipping away into a monumental orgasm. You groan, you hand flying over your mouth to muffle the sound – don’t want to let the chauffer hear you.

Tom isn’t finished with you as he slips two fingers inside as he suckles the hard nub of your clitoris. God, that man’s hands are the eighth wonder of the world as he brings you off once more. You’ve had other lovers, but never one as tender and as Tom. His lovemaking is practiced, but at the same time, so abandoned that the combination is both cultured and undisciplined. He excites you in a way you’ve never experienced and you lose all control of your body, giving over to the pleasure. He brings you off a second and third time, leaving you gasping and hot from the passion.

You want to return the sensations, so you slide back away from him and he looks up in confusion. You take his face in your hands and passionately kiss him, tasting the sweetness of the scotch he’s drunk combined with the salty taste of your quim. Your thread your fingers in the soft curls of his hair and gently guide him back to the seat beside you. Your dress is already bunched up around your hips, so it’s a very easy thing to slide one leg over his lap and take your place upon it.

With one hand still buried in his hair, you reach down between you to the rising snake between his legs. He is so hard, he practically jumps when you start rubbing it through the cloth of his trousers. He moans into your mouth, gripping your shoulders as your give it a gentle squeeze. With both hands now, you shift your position so that you can unbuckle the belt and unzip his pants. He obliges you by raising his hips and you slide the trousers – and his briefs – down to his ankles. He kicks them off, leaving you full access to the glorious length of his cock.

The veins bulge as his blood is flowing freely, making it incredibly hard. You cradle his balls with one hand, holding the shaft with the other and gently lick the foreskin until you’ve pushed it down to show off the head. Pink and perfect, you blow softly across it and goose bumps rise on his skin. You lick it gently and then blow again; God, even his cock is beautiful and perfect. It rises from the thatch of dark colored hair and you can smell the musk of it, making you even hotter and desperate to take it in your mouth.

You lower your mouth on it, taking an inch at a time into your mouth. He tastes of mushrooms and smells earthy. You press your tongue against the flat of his cock, swallowing at the same time so that the muscles of your throat contract and expand around the shaft. He practically screams as he buries his fingers in your hair, guiding you and encouraging you. You take every glorious inch into your mouth, enjoying the taste, smell, and feel of it. You love this part of the sexual experience and he is most definitely enjoying your talent.

But in the back of your mind, you know there’s another reason – a reason you’ll never tell him. You want him to forget her, forget all about their affair. You’re going to make him forget her; forget any other woman’s touch but yours. You’re going to wipe away the thought of ever having another lover but you from his mind. You use your mouth to make love to his manhood as a way of branding him forever as yours. Just as he’s now branded you forever as his.

“Stop! Please! Stop and…and…,” he stammers.

You know what he wants. You want it to. He’s close and you want him inside of you. He slides his gorgeous derriere to the edge of the car seat and helps you up to climb up in his lap. He helps you straddle his hips, then guides his shaft deep inside of your quivering quim. Gripping the back of the seat, you rise and fall on that glorious cock. He holds on to your hips, helping you to keep your balance as you ride him like the wild stallion he is.

The blood is pounding in your ears and it takes a few seconds to realize that he’s been panting one word, panting it over and over. “Mine…mine…mine,” he keeps panting as he pounds inside of you. You chuckle once before losing yourself again in the rhythm between you.

“Mine…mine…mine….”

You both climax together this time, the first time that’s ever happened, and it feels as if you both will combust with the fire between you. You fall forward, against his chest, and both of you gasp for air from the intensity of it all.

“Mine,” he says once more, so quietly that it’s almost a prayer. His eyes are closed and his face is flushed, the boyish charm of him shining through in that one simple pose.

You raise up just enough to kiss those sweet lips. “And you are mine,” you breathe into his mouth and fall into his arms.

You make love twice more in the back of the limo before hastily throwing your clothes on. Tom raps on the barricade and tells the driver to head back to your hotel. Once back in your room, the clothing and the jewels end up on the floor as you make love once more. You fall asleep, wrapped in each other’s arms.

He is yours – you have claimed him. And he has claimed you.

 

_….to be continued…._

 

 


	4. I Dreamed Last Night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The ultimate fantasy -- a little Tom, a little Loki! Together, you get the Tomki fantasy to end all fantasies.
> 
> by  
> Lady Thomas Sharpe  
> © LTS 2014

 

“Tom? Are you coming to bed?”

You know he’s just as tired as you are – more, in fact. He’s up very early and off to shoot his new movie. And then he’s back at the hotel you’re both staying in, exhausted beyond belief. You have put him to bed every night with a single malt on ice, just as he likes it, made love to him, and snuggled him as he slept. Every morning, you’re awake with him, making that special green apple-and-spinach smoothie he loves – even managing to get a little yogurt in the darn thing. Then, with a sweet kiss, you send him off to shoot and make plans for your day ahead.

“Darling, I have to go over these pages for tomorrow.”

You hear the sound of paper rattling and know that he’s sitting at the dining table with the script. You pull your lace wrap around you, barely hiding the slinky negligee you’re wearing, and come up behind him. You rest a hand on the back of his neck and kiss his temple.

“Would you like me to make a cup of tea for you?” you ask, wanting to help him in some way.

Tom smiles at you, wrapping his arms around your waist and resting his head on your breasts. You put one arm around his shoulders, drawing him closer, and lay your other hand against his cheek, cradling his head. He sighs contentedly, closing his eyes for a few moments.

“Tea would be wonderful, love. If you don’t mind.”

“I don’t mind,” you say. You kiss the top of his head and give him a quick hug. “I’ll be right back.”

He bends his head back to the script, his lips moving as he works to memorize the lines he’ll be saying the next day. He works so hard to make it look so effortless. It’s part of why you love him so much. His ability to transform into the characters he plays amazes you. But then, he also tends to bring his work home and you’ve been able to make love with this new character as well as the man himself. It’s always a sexual adventure doing that and you both enjoy it. You put the kettle on to boil and measure out the English Breakfast into the cup for him.

You bring the cup of tea to him, along with the lemon and honey, and leave it all on the table. His eyes are closed, his lips moving soundlessly. You decide to add the lemon and honey for him, and then stroke his hair until he’s gotten to a stopping place. He sees the cup at his elbow and smiles up at you.

“Thank you, darling. This is wonderful.”

“I am for bed, then, my love.” You bend over to kiss his lips, tasting his sweetness and teasing his mouth with your tongue. Your kiss is thorough; his kiss is lingering. You feel that tingle in your breasts and quim. “You don’t stay up too late, my love. You have an early call for tomorrow.”

He kisses you again, and then kisses your hand. “I promise I won’t.”

You chuckle softly, burying your fingers in his curly hair. “Oh yes, you will. You’ll stay up all night I leave you alone to your devices.”

Tom laughs with you, that silly little laugh he has. “You think so, do you?”

You kiss his forehead, smoothing the hair back from his face. “I know my Loki. Thinks he’s so invincible.”

Tom laughs, reaching between your legs, under the negligee, to tickle between your thighs. “Oh, so _that’s_ what you see in me. You only want me for _him_.”

“Honey, I want _you_. Now, understand that I wouldn’t kick Loki out of bed, mind, but I want my Tom.” You kiss him softly. “Besides, I know that you’re a little bit Loki inside. I get to fuck him when I get to fuck you, so…” You wink knowingly at him.

He continues to finger your quim, and your flesh ripples at his touch. “Maybe I’ll bring him to bed tonight.”

You reach down to press his fingers against the lips of your quim and clamp your thighs tightly together to capture his hand there. “You might just have to. But one thing’s for sure, you have to actually _be_ in bed to bring him. And I’ll have to do something drastic if you’re not under the covers by 11:00, my Trickster. Something _very_ drastic.”

Tom gets that mischievous look on his face, the one he shows when he’s actually playing Loki in the films. It’s his turn to bury his fingers in _your_ hair and he pulls you down so that your cheek is close to his, feeling the stubble of his beard, and he is whispering in your ear.

“You will always kneel to me,” he says in that deep, husky voice that makes you wet and weak in the knees. “You will kneel before me and I will rule you. You will be my slave and I will be your master. I wil—”

You interrupt him with one more sound kiss on the lips, stopping him before you are forced to rip the clothing from his body and fuck him right there at the table. He knows this, the rat, and he kisses you back, chuckling with smug satisfaction. You are trembling inside, your quim pulsing because of that voice. You finally separate from his kiss, shaking your head and smiling at him.

“You have until 11:00 PM to be done with this and have your sexy ass in that bed, Mr. Hiddleston,” you admonish. “Because if you’re not in there by then, I’ll have a toy or two at my disposal and you’ll be shite out of luck, buddy. I start, with or without you, at 11:00 PM! Got it?”

Tom gets that little boy look on his face and nods, trying to look serious. “I shall. I can’t have you starting without me.”

You wink and make your way to the bed. You know that he’ll be there for a while and his dedication to his craft won’t let him quit until he’s completed the task he has set for himself. You stop at the doorway of the bedroom, looking back over your shoulder at him. Studying his script, sipping his tea. A wave of pure love flits through you – he is so handsome. So gentle. So kind. So dorky and adorable. It’s so hard to see how he can find such complex characters within him, especially someone like the God of Mischief. You have to admit that Loki is a sexy beast, thanks to Tom.

You watch your man and wonder what it would be like to make love to him as he’s playing Loki. You know another film is in the works. You wonder if you’ll still be together when they start filming again. So that you can find out what the Trickster is like in bed.

“All right, my beautiful Loki, you will come to me” you whisper, barely breathing the words. “I desire it. I want it. I want you.”

But for now, you’re going to go read your book while you wait for Tom to join you. You’ve learned, after five glorious months together, that you can’t sleep without him next to you. You can wait for him. You smile and head off to bed.

You’re reading the latest Tymber Dalton novel, a very erotic book filled with rough sex and alpha males. Not that you’d ever have the nerve to do such a thing, but you love to read about it. You settle between the covers, open your book, and begin reading. But after days of rising and sleeping by Tom’s schedule, you’re so tired. Your eyes feel gritty and heavy. Your lids keep slipping down, slipping down to finally close….

 

~*~

 

Your head snaps back some time later and you sit bolt upright in the bed. You can’t believe you fell asleep. You take a quick glance at the clock and breathe a sigh of relief – it’s only been about half an hour since you left Tom to his script. It’s not quite 11:00 PM. Good! You can’t believe you fell asleep; you never fall asleep when Tom isn’t there. You never get comfortable enough. _Damn it, where is he?_

You throw back the covers and swing your legs over the side of the bed. He really does need to get some sleep. He can read those pages on the set tomorrow. So thinking, you make your way to the door. You’re going to be firm, you think to yourself. He’ll wear himself out, you tell yourself. You will insist! But as you come close to the bedroom door, you hear a voice – and it’s not Tom’s voice but yet, still familiar to you for some reason. Another man is in there with him. When did that man arrive? Where did he come from? And more importantly, who _is_ he?

“You called to me! Why did you not think I would come?”

“I never called,” Tom says, very agitated. “I don’t even know who you are. How did you get in there? That’s a locked door. Do I have to—?”

Tom’s protest gives way in a strangled cry and is immediately hushed in a way that gives you to believe that the other man has put his hand over Tom’s mouth.

“Shh, my pet,” this new voice purrs, a very comforting sound. Or it would be if you hadn’t heard Tom’s muffled growl. “Yes, I know. You fear me now. But you will not for long.”

You risk a peek around the threshold and see a tall man, slightly taller than Tom. All you can see is his muscular back, his long dark hair trailing in a wavy cascade to a few inches below his shoulders. He is not as slender as Tom is; he seems to have a bit more weight to him. From the fit of his tunic – which looks strangely like the costume Tom wore as Loki, in the Asgardian prison – you can see that he’s slim hipped, with a well-shaped derriere, round and perfect in the tight leather pants he wears. Long legs complete the picture of a man who is active and knows the type of reactions he gets from the women in his life. Or men, you amend in your head. From the way he is caressing Tom’s hair, you have that vibe about him that he plays a wide field.

“You did call me,” this man says again, his voice a deep rumble in his chest. He steps even closer to Tom, helping him to stand by putting a hand on Tom’s waist. “I see why these mortals want to possess you. You are not unattractive to my own eyes.” His hand leaves Tom’s waist to trace its way around the hip and to the small of Tom’s back. “Quite attractive to me. Do I please you as well?” He removes his hand from Tom’s mouth, letting it fall to his side. “Do I?”

You can see Tom’s eyes and they are wide, almost as if he’s in shock. “You…I don’t….”

The man’s hand caresses Tom’s buttock, pulling his hips closer. You watch, fascinated and more than just a little turned on by this. You want to go in and stop that man from hurting Tom but at the same time, you can feel the sexual mojo in the room. From the look on Tom’s face, you can see that he is turned on despite himself. You want to know what he’ll do. So you watch.

“ _I_ do,” the man says, and you hear the smile in his voice. “I feel you against me. I please you as well.”

“I—”

The man leans his head down and gently presses his lips to Tom’s mouth. Tom’s eyes close, his head turns slightly, and he steps into the kiss. He embraces the man, the kiss deepening.

You know you should be jealous. You know that you should go stop it. But Tom doesn’t seem to be protesting and this is really turning _you_ on as well. You raise the hem of your nightgown and put a hand to your quim, feeling your hard nub pounding and your groin is aching in response. You press against your erection and feel yourself getting wet between your thighs. _Go on_ , you will him. _Go on_.

Tom is pressing hard against the man, squeezing the man’s arse with both hands. The man lowers a hand, turning Tom around to sit on the edge of the dining table. You can almost see the man’s face – almost, except that he is still passionately kissing Tom and licking Tom’s lips in between kisses. But still, his hand is massaging Tom’s crotch and Tom is groaning in his desire. You can see Tom’s erection through the thin material of the scrub bottoms he wears. And it is throbbing – you can see that as well from where you stand.

The man pulls the string tie on Tom’s pants, widening the waistband and pulling them down over Tom’s slim hips. Tom’s erection pops out, bold and dark red from the blood engorging his veins. The man has one hand wrapped around Tom’s neck, still assaulting your lover’s mouth, while the other grips Tom’s firm cock in hand. _That_ hand strokes the erect member in a bold rhythm, sometimes squeezing at the base of Tom’s cock and sometimes squeezing the head of it. After a few minutes of this, the man releases Tom’s mouth and pushes him back to lie on the table before bending down to take Tom’s full length in his mouth.

Tom has closed his eyes, giving himself to the sensation of the man’s sucking and slurping. His lips are open, the tip of his tongue creeping into the corner of his mouth, and he softly moans with each lick. The man has every single inch of it and you can see his throat muscles working as he sucks Tom deep. He has Tom’s balls in hand, gently stroking them with a thumb while holding them as if they were the most fragile of creations. Tom reaches up over his head and grips the edge of the other side of the table with both fists.

You are trying so hard to be quiet but you are close to an orgasm. You desperately want Tom’s cock in _you_. It’s taking everything inside of you not to run over and push the man out of the way. But you can’t move. You have to watch this to its conclusion. So you give in to the climax, feeling the shudders that work through your belly into the rest of your body. Your quim drips as your release moistens your thighs. You lean against the doorframe, still wrapped up in what you see.

Tom has also has his climax, his head thrown back and his back arched off the table. The man swallows several times, taking every drop of the cream from Tom’s cock. Tom bites into his arm to keep from screaming out, then relaxes into a motionless body on the table. His face is flushed, the after effect of his orgasm coloring his body in one glorious golden, rosy glow. He is panting hard and his arms come down to his sides, as limp as cooked pasta. But the man is not done.

You watch the man stand, unbuckling the leather trousers he wears and letting them drop to the floor. “And now,” he says in a husky whisper, “you will bend to me. Now, you will give to me!”

With a practiced hand, he turns Tom over until he lies face down on the table. He pulls Tom toward him, Tom’s hips off the table now – along with his cock and balls in resting state between his legs. One of the man’s hands rests on the small of Tom’s back as the other strokes between the cheeks of Tom’s arse. Tom lays one cheek against the table, his eyes still closed, and waits. You know what is coming and again, you want to run forward to stop it. But Tom appears to be eager. So again, you watch.

The man puts one finger into Tom’s arse, straight up to base, and Tom groans in pleasure. The man chuckles, bending over to whisper, “Yes, that pleases you. I know it does. You are wet there. Eager for me. Then, I will have you. I will have you now.”

The man removes his finger and strokes his own hard erection. It’s enormous, a full ten inches of hard, steely flesh. Next to Tom’s, it’s the most beautiful cock you’ve ever seen – perfectly formed and lightly tinged in blue. The head of it is uncut, the foreskin glowing with that same eerie bluish color. The man groans and then slides his cock slowly between Tom’s lower cheeks. Tom’s head comes off the table once, that look of ecstasy on his face as he turns to look over his shoulder. Then, he closes his eyes again and lays back down on the table.

“Yes, you have called me,” the man says, that husky voice again. He bends over, gripping Tom’s wrists against the table top, and begins thrusting against Tom’s beautiful arse. Each thrust is punctuated by a satisfied grunt and he pounds away, going as deeply as he can. Tom is erect again, but the man will not let go of Tom’s wrists to do anything about it. He continues to fuck your man.

You never know where the bravery comes from – this is certainly nothing you’ve ever done before – but you find the strength returning to your limbs and you brazenly walk into the room now. The man gives a quick glance over his shoulder to see you and you get enough of a view of his face to see that he is smiling in an almost mischievous way. But you pay him no mind as you come to the table and kneel to crawl under it.

Tom’s cock is so hard, still wet from his orgasm. You get on your knees below him, under the table, and suck on the head of it. Your hand now goes around the shaft of it, nicely greased, and you stroke it while you flick at the head of his cock with your tongue. Tom is no longer trying to be quiet about it, now that he knows it’s your mouth and tongue. He is moaning against the table while the man takes him from behind and you take him from the front. When both men finally orgasm, they both practically scream as they spill their seed.

You wait for a brief moment before rising from under the table. You have to know who this man is. He is bent over Tom’s back, his long blue-black hair fallen into and over his face. His head rests against Tom’s shoulder, both men boneless lumps. But you have to know. You have to. So you reach over and push the man’s hair back away from his face – _and stare into the face of Loki Laufeyson_. _The exact mirror image of Tom Hiddleston as he is in the Thor movies._

Your mind doesn’t want to accept what is plainly there in front of you – that Loki is just as real as Tom. You’re touching him; you can hear his ragged breathing. The Norse God of Mischief is very real. And as much as that means something, your logical mind doesn’t want to accept it. Right now, it’s not a priority – _Tom_ is your priority. You have to see to him. You’ll figure this out later, when you’re sure that Tom is okay.

You pull up a chair behind Loki and gently separate him from your lover – you will not allow him to cause Tom one tiny bit of pain. Loki is still lost in the fog of his orgasm; he pulls out of Tom’s arse, letting you guide him like a small child to sit in the chair. Then, you turn to Tom, who is only now coming out of his own afterglow. He blinks himself aware until he finally sees you and smiles sweetly. You stroke his back, his hair, watching him closely.

“Hey there, handsome,” you whisper to him. “You okay? Are you hurt?”

“No,” Tom whispers. “At least, I don’t think so. It was….” His face colors as he realizes that not only do you know but that you have seen. “Oh, God.”

“Shh, you’re all right. Everything’s just fine. It’s all okay, my love.”

He slowly raises up, still leaning heavily against the table. “Should I be embarrassed?”

“Oh hell no,” you reassure him with a grin. “I think I’ve never been more turned on than seeing you and… _him_ going at it.” You chuckle softly. “I gotta tell ya, this is a side I never expected to see out of you.”

He blushes lightly, a shy smile on his lips. He is breathing a little easier now. “A side _I_ never thought I’d see. I’m not…I mean, I don’t—”

You kiss him softly, wondering what Loki’s kisses might taste like, feel like. “I know, my love. I know. But it really was kinda hot.”

“He called to me,” says that Trickster sitting in the chair. His head is still bent forward, hiding his face with his hair. “I heard my name called, invoked.”

Loki’s voice is so sexy, in a different way than Tom’s. Where Tom’s voice is like melted chocolate and scotch, Loki’s voice is rich bourbon and thunder. It resonates in his chest, rolling out of him like a wave of raw sex. It’s primeval and dangerous; it’s demanding and commanding, and you can’t help but feel drawn to him. He sits in the chair, still nude, and you eye his body appreciatively,

“ _He_ didn’t call you. _I_ did,” you whisper. “But I was really calling him.”

You turn back around to Tom, sitting gingerly against the edge of the table. He’s staring down at the floor, his beautiful face clouded by something. You take it in your hands, your thumbs stroking across his cheekbones. He desperately searches your eyes, looking for something inside of you. You smile at him and he relaxes a little, the lines in his face easing into smoothness. You touch your lips to his once more and rest your forehead against his.

Fingers bury themselves in your hair and your head is jerked back. Loki presses his lips against yours, claiming your mouth in a hot, passionate kiss. His tongue fucks your mouth, going as deep as he can into it. Your muffled protests are swallowed by his hard kiss and you can’t help but be aroused by it. He is not going to be polite and gentle about it and that turns you on even more. Two hands grip your hips and pull you back a bit against the rigid flesh of Loki’s hard cock. He presses it urgently against your buttocks, filling the crack between them through your lace undies. It feels enormous as he grinds it into you from behind. Your heart begins to pound in your chest; your mouth dries up and you pant softly.

“ _You_ called me? Then, I am come, my pet.” Loki reaches around your waist and presses his hand against your quim. “Ah yes, juicy and ready for me. Yes, this will be wonderful for you.” He hooks one finger in the crotch of your panties and rips downward, the garment coming away from your hips with a _rrrrrrrrrrrip_. “Yes, you will enjoy this. Perhaps I will as well.”

You spare one more glance at Tom, who is watching you with glassy eyes and an eager expression on his face. _You won’t be the only one enjoying Loki’s affections, my love._ Tom licks his lips and a small smile raises the corners of his mouth. He’s just as excited to watch as you were when it was his turn. Once again, you tell yourself, if he’s not upset, why should you be. With a sigh, you press your backside harder against Loki’s crotch. You’re rewarded with a chuckle.

“I see. You want to receive what he did, don’t you. You want me to take you hard and fast. You want my touch, my shaft between your legs, your lips.” Loki wraps an arm around your waist and lifts you into the air, his fingers slipping between the lips of your so wet pussy. He groans with you as he fucks you with his hand, the wet from inside making the way slippery and slick for him. “You will watch, boy! You will watch me take your woman and make her scream my name. You will watch now. And remember.”

Your head drops back as he continues his manipulations on your crotch. The friction is maddening and you have no control whatsoever on your limbs or his actions. You feel the orgasm building in your loins and the heat filling your body. When you finally do explode, it feels as if you are about to shatter into a million glass shards, flying at the speed of light around the room, only to come together into one being of diamond.

But Loki is not done with you, not by a long shot. He flips you in midair, turning you to face him and impales you with his cock, splitting your muff with expert precision. It slides inside of you, fire and ice at the same time, and you shiver and cry out.

“ _Loki_ ,” you scream, your arms around his neck to keep your balance. “ _God, Loki, please, God, Loooookiiiiiiiiii_.”

Loki is laughing at you, the sound rubbing against your soul like sandpaper and silk. You wrap your legs around him, feeling his cock deep inside, a rod of molten brass that lights you up within. You feel yourself falling backwards and Tom is there to catch you. You open your eyes and see him staring down into your face with a look of raw hunger on his. His cock is hard a third time and he is going to take you by mouth. He puts his hand to the back of your neck, steadying your head, and slides his shaft slowly between your lips. You swallow hard as he goes deep into your throat and begins to thrust.

You lay suspended between them, poised in midair as one man ravages your quim and the other, your mouth. This excites you in a way you never expected and never even hoped to experience. While Loki holds your hips, Tom holds your shoulders – both men keeping you from being injured but also preventing you from stopping them. The danger alone is making you hot. You cum several times, slicking Loki’s cock with your juices, and the tension in your throat muscles squeezing Tom’s dick until he shoots, liquid and silken, down your throat. Loki follows soon ever, filling your quim with his delicious cream.

You feel an out of body experience, as if you’re floating The sensations of afterglow leave you weightless as you rise up and away from them. Every part of your body tingles and shines, the warmth inside like a coal that’s lit from the fireplace and replaces your heart. There is no more; there can be no more. You cannot move, nor do you want to. You simply want to fall asleep between these two amazingly beautiful men, perchance to do this again and again and again.

Your essence descends and you feel the soft mattress they lay you on. You open your eyes to see the ceiling of the bedroom you share with Tom. You are still in a stupor but you have enough presence to feel the sheets underneath you as you slide toward one side of the bed, until your head is dangling off the other side. You raise it to see Tom knee walking his way between your thighs. With a smile, you lower your head again and close your eyes.

His tongue vibrates against your clit, tasting the slick juices of your and Loki’s cum. He slurps it all up like a greedy boy enjoying a juice box for his own. He nibbles that hard cherry and you explode yet one more time. But he is not letting that be the end. He kisses your quim deep, fucking you with his tongue as he uses his fingers to work you well. You scream as loud as you can, your mouth flying wide open—

As Loki’s mouth descends upon yours and he kisses you passionately. One hand travels to your breasts and he takes a nipple between his thumb and forefinger. He tweaks at it, making it hard, and leans over to suckle at it, while he does the same with the other hand to the other nipple. He straddles your head while he toys with your breasts, one knee balanced on the edge of the bed and his cock is so close to your mouth. His balls dangle in a hairless sack and you crave touching them. But the feeling of what he and Tom are doing is driving you to distraction.

You manage to pull your focus back to Loki’s gorgeous testicles. They hang like ripe grapes from the base of his cock, and you really want to taste them now. You reach between his legs and grip his blue arse, raising your head to take one perfect ball into your mouth. He obliges by lowering his hips slightly, to give you better access, and groans against one of your breasts as you suckle that ball in your mouth and run your tongue against it. You open your lips wider to take them both in, floating them on your tongue and tasting the vinegary texture of his sweat. You suck them gently but with glorious purpose, giggling to yourself at the phrase.

Once more, Tom brings you to orgasm with his mouth and fingers while your ministrations to Loki’s balls are making him shiver. You stroke Loki’s cock while enjoying the snack, giving in to Tom’s expert touches and mouth music. The sounds these two men are making is enough to wake you fully from the sexual torpor you’ve been in. _Oh shit, these two are going to put me into a coma for life!_

They’ve traded places and that’s just fine with you. Loki slides his bold Jotun cock into your mouth but far less gently than Tom had done. But he holds your neck as well, squeezing hard as he rams it deeper and deeper, and you swallow hard, raking your teeth along his shaft. He laughs deep in his throat, the laugh turning into a groan that comes from his toes. You hold onto his balls with a gentle fist, clasping every time he seems to be close to shooting his semen down your throat. You force him to pull back, to hold it a bit longer, to make this last as long as he can.

Tom kneels between your hips, raising your thighs over his. He sees how much Loki’s roughness is getting you off, so he rams his cock into your quim hard. You grunt with the force of it but do not stop taking Loki’s length. Tom grits his teeth together, his fingers digging into the soft skin of your hips as he plunges again and again into your pussy, pounding with such force that you’re afraid that his and Loki’s cocks will meet in the middle of you. The brutal lovemaking is almost too much and yet you cannot get enough of it.

You squeeze Loki’s balls one more time and he surprises you by roughly withdrawing from your mouth. Once again, you float up in the air as you hear Tom’s moan of surprise. But this time, Loki has you on your side and he lays down there with you. Tom comes to lay down in front of you and you think that _maybe_ you might get some sleep now. But it’s not to be.

Loki spreads your lower cheeks with his fingers and now it’s your turn as he slides that one finger inside of your arse. You gasp and stiffen for a moment, but the movement of his finger in and out isn’t altogether painful. In fact, quite the opposite as something so forbidden to you is making you wet and pounding again. He takes the finger out and replaces it with his cock, going just as slowly inside as he did with Tom. For a man who courts chaos, Loki can be quite gentle when he wishes. Thankfully, this is one of those times.

“Now, boy. Now, you may take her from the front.”

Loki rolls to his back, taking you with him, still with his cock inside of your arse. Tom once again is on his knees between yours and Loki’s thighs, and he slips his cock back inside. God, you are crammed full, fore and aft, and you and Loki both moan from the rubbing of Tom’s cock inside you. Loki is feeling the pressure, the stroking, and Tom resumes his hard pounding. Loki lies motionless for a time until Tom has to stop to catch his breath. Then Tom is still while Loki thrusts into your arse and Tom groans from the pressure. You reach up your arms and pull him tight against you as you whisper softly, “Harder! Oh God, harder. Harder! God, harder—”

 

~*~

 

Your eyes flutter open as you feel that pounding inside of your quim. You look up into the flushed face of your lover as Tom grips your wrists over your head and pants against your hair. You feel your orgasm building, feel the wetness against the sheets under your arse and know that this is not the first time you’ve climaxed. You fell asleep? You’ve been fucking Tom in your sleep? Who cares, you tell yourself, and give yourself over to the building feelings inside of you, in your loins. “Harder, goddamn it, harder. Oh God, Tom, please!”

He growls and does exactly as you ask, filling your quim with every inch of his hard shaft and ramming it into you with all of the strength he possesses. You graze your teeth on his shoulder, biting down into the soft flesh to suck it into your mouth. When you cum, you scream against his skin so loud that you know you’re going to be hoarse the next day. He climaxes a few seconds later, biting into the pillow under your head and screaming loud himself. He stiffens hard against you, his whole body going rigid, and stays that way for what seems like a very long time, before finally releasing the tension in his muscles and collapsing against you.

Only then does he let go of your wrists and you put your arms around him to hold him still, to keep his now spent cock inside of you for as long as possible. The fleshy instrument of your desire is soft and tender within the walls of your quim but it’s the tether that holds your souls together. You don’t want to lose that connection. Not yet. Not just yet.

He gasps for air as if he’s been holding his breath the whole time, his body shivering so hard that _your_ teeth are beginning to chatter. The blankets have been tossed to one side – his side of the bed, you note with an inner grin – and you pull the top sheet over the two of you. That seems to help some of his shivering, but not all – and you know it has nothing to do with the cold. You share your body warmth with him, replacing the chill that he feels with your own heat.

He lays still against you until he can breathe again, then falls over to his side in a paralyzed mound. His mouth is open, still drawing breath deep into his lungs. You lay the rest of the covers over your bodies and roll over to lay in his arms, your head resting on his shoulder.

“Hey there, gorgeous,” you whisper, still slightly out of breath yourself. “Did you make it on time?”

He chuckles softly. “I knew it! _I knew it_!”

“Knew what, champ?”

“You were still bloody asleep,” he answers, his eyes still closed as his chest vibrates with his laughter “Bloody fucking hell, you were.”

You raise your head and stroke his chest on the bone that runs down the middle. “You…you were…you made love to me anyway?”

He opens one eye, the one closest to you, and peers down at you with a mixture of amusement and exasperation. “I heard you moaning all the way into the living room, you silly girl. There was no way I could concentrate, not with my old sausage hard as the proverbial rock. So I came in here to join you. I thought you’d given up on me and started on your own.”

You slide up a little until you can put your elbow over his shoulder, straddling his arm and shoulder, and gaze down at him with a smile. “And had I?”

“Well, you didn’t have that toy you mentioned but by God, you were having a real go at it. I had a hell of a show for a bit, watching you.” He chuckles again. “Felt a bit left out, really. And a bit insulted. After all, that’s supposed to be _my_ job.”

You laugh along with him. “So, you took over? How did you know I was asleep?”

“Didn’t really until you just asked me what was what.” He rubs his nose ruefully with his free hand. “I suppose I should have known, though. When you barked out a ‘Loki, fuck me hard’, I suppose I should have guessed, but I didn’t. I just thought you wanted a bit of role playing.”

Your cheeks go flaming hot and you take your hand from his chest to cover as much of your face as possible. “Oh my God, did I really say that?” you blurt out with complete embarrassment. “Oh Tom, I am so sorry. I don’t believe…did I _really_ say that?”

He tenderly removes your hand, kissing your palm softly. “I loved it, darling. I always feel like I have to be so safe, so gentle with you. I feel like you gave me a gift, letting me be wild and wicked that way. Even if you didn’t mean it.”

“Oh, I meant it, my lad,” you assure him. “You feel free to be as wild and wanton as you like from now on. I really liked it.”

He tilts his head to one side. “Really?”

“Really.” You kiss him hard on the mouth, sucking his tongue into your mouth and enjoying his grunts of pleasure as you do. When you pull away, he looks as if you’ve just given him the best Christmas present ever. “Really,” you repeat, caressing his cheek with one finger.

You turn over on your side and he spoons around you, one arm under your head so that your head is still on his shoulder and the other arm around your middle, just under your breasts. Tom lays his cheek against your hair and relaxes against your back. Your body still feels as if you’ve had more orgasms in one night than you’ve had in your entire lifetime. And the dampness of the sheets under you, you probably have. You smile to yourself – you need to invoke Loki more often. _Wonder if he’ll come and cum_. You giggle under your breath at the idea.

“So,” Tom asks in a drowsy voice. “What were you dreaming about? Or should I ask who?”

You reach behind you, touching his firm arse and giving it a bit of a squeeze. “You, of course.”

“Me? Or Loki?”

“One and the same, aren’t you?” you tease in a sleepy voice of your own.

He laughs and the escaping wind of his breath fluffs your hair. He snuggles closer, giving you answer.

“Sleep now, my lad. Sleep.”

“I love you,” he whispers into your ear, falling down into the peace of his slumber.

“I love you, too, Tom. My beautiful Loki-man.”

So saying, you find your own sleep with the feel of your man wrapped around you, his inner Loki and your curiosity finally fulfilled.

 

 

 

 

**_...to be continued…._ **

****

 


	5. You Get Me Closer To God

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oh dear, our first fight. And a hell of a fight it turns out to be. But the make up sex is...well...
> 
> by
> 
> Lady Thomas Sharpe  
> © LTS 2014
> 
> **Dedicated to Katie Jedrzejczyk**

 

You never know when he’s going to be back at the hotel with you. His shooting schedule has been known to run over on occasion and he has to stay until the day’s work is truly done. Mostly, they end on time and he is “home” soon after. But there is always the chance – and it’s happened twice on this movie. When it does, you know he’s exhausted. He is exhausted a lot with this shoot…and why not. He’s never had more than a week or two between films and he’s tiring easily. After a long hot bath and a drink, you put him to bed and wrap yourself around him while he sleeps.

But something about this film, this character is different. When he comes back to you, _he_ is different. There’s a harder edge to him that lingers for a time and it’s something that sets your teeth on edge. Fortunately, the hot bath seems to wash it away and he always comes out his usual dorky self. But if the truth were known, you’ll glad when this film is over. Not only does he get a rare two months off, but he’ll be able to shed this character along with the wardrobe. And no one will be gladder of that than you.

So thinking, you jerk out of your reverie at the sound of the door lock clicking. You toss your book to the table and jump up, moving in the direction of the wet bar. You barely have time to put the ice in the glass before Tom is inside, roughly closing the door behind him. He tosses his card key and lays his cell phone down on the side table by the door, and stands there staring at it. The look on his face is hard to read but you just presume it’s his fatigue and pour the Jameson’s over the ice.

“You look wiped out,” you say, capping the bottle and picking up the glass. “Bad day?”

He grunts, still staring at the table’s contents.

You hold the glass out to him. “Here, this will make it better. And I’ll go run your bath.”

He holds his hand up, waving the glass aside. “No,” he says, his voice tense.

“You sure?” you ask. “You look like you could use it. Here, take it and I’ll go—”

“Leave the bloody bath out of it, woman!” he snarls. “If I want a fucking bath, I’ll take it myself. I’m not a goddamn child!”

 _What? Did he just…? Did he…?_ You stare at him for a moment, more than a little taken aback. “I know you’re not,” you finally get out, your voice barely above a whisper. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean—”

Tom shakes his head violently and he turns away, stomping off toward the sliding glass doors that lead to the small terrace outside the hotel suite. “Of course not! No one ever means to, do they? And yet I’m a goddamn child that has to be taken care of. Isn’t that right?” He whirls around to face you, his eyes blazing. “Isn’t it? Isn’t that what you all think of me?”

Okay, this doesn’t sound like Tom. You have no idea what has caused this anger but you’re damned if you know what to say back. “No, of course not. Tom, what—”

“Oh fuck it all,” he growls and turns back to the glass.

“Look, I don’t understand. Instead of biting my head off, why don’t you tell me?”

“Tell you?” The reflection of his face glares at you. “Why don’t you stop being a doormat and just leave me alone?” You touch his shoulder, trying to calm him, but he shrugs your hand away violently. “Get off me, damn it. Don’t you get it? I’m not in the fucking mood.”

It’s out of your mouth before you can stop it. “That seems to be your problem a lot lately; you’re not in the mood.” You take the glass and down the contents, slamming it on the table hard enough that the ice pops out and rattles on the floor at your feet.

“Oh, please forgive me,” he says with a sneer, turning back to you. “I’m so sorry your trained monkey isn’t giving you the shag you wanted. Maybe another movie star might suit you better. I can fix you up with someone else, you’d prefer.”

Right now, all you want to do is slap him hard enough to make his ears ring. How dare he accuse you of such a thing? Your hands are shaking as you try to keep from balling them into fists. Maybe you _were_ wrong about him after all. Maybe he’s always been a temperamental bastard. An egomaniacal blowhard and you were just too enamored with him to really see it. It hurts to know that, but at least you know it now.

You take two steps closer and stop, trying to maintain some sense of distance and dignity. “Yeah, you’re right; I could have been fucking Benedict Cumberbatch, after all.”

“Oh fuck you,” he spits back at you.

“Fuck you right back, you son of a bitch,” you reply through clenched teeth. “I have no idea what’s put the bug up your ass and right now, I don’t care.” You take a deep breath and swallow hard; the fight is making your stomach roil. You hate conflict with a passion, always trying to avoid it whenever possible. But you’re not going to back down from this. Not when you didn’t start it and he seems to be spoiling for it.

“Then, why are you still here?”

Any other time, that question would have broken your heart. But not this time. _This_ time, it only fuels your anger. “Why? You know that’s a damn good question.” You swallow hard again, getting your temper back under control. “Because I thought we had something, Tom. I thought you cared about me. I certainly care for you. And as for being a star fucker, if you don’t know by now that your celebrity or fame means nothing to me, then you really are deranged. Or full of yourself. Right now, I can’t tell which. And once again, I don’t care.”

That stops him. He studies you, his brow furrowed and his body rigid as if he might run or fight. You can hear him breathing, a ragged sound that rasps through his nostrils.

“I think you owe me an explanation, Thomas William. I think you owe me that much.” You return his glare, standing just as taut as he is. “Long day? Something go wrong? What is it?”

He looks over your shoulder, unable to meet your gaze now. “Something like that.”

“And you thought you’d have a go at me to get over it?”

“No!” He melts a little more, the heaving of his chest a little less labored. His hands begin to relax at his sides. “I…I really don’t want to talk about it. I…I can’t.”

“I see.” You nod your head, dismissing it all. Something happened, you know that much. You also know that you should forgive him, let him come to it in his own time. Any other time, you’d let that go. You’d just blow it off. But not this time. This time, you can’t. He’s laid some pretty lousy accusations at your feet and all without the benefit of an explanation or, God forbid, an apology. It hurts. It hurts very much.

“Darling….” He still sounds tense, on edge. “I….”

“No,” you say, your own voice guarded now. “Let it go. I think you need to rest. And I’m not going to make this any worse than it is.”

He calls your name softly but you turn away from him.

“I’m going to bed. You…can do what you want.”

You walk away, going into the bedroom. You quickly shed your clothes and get into your nightgown. With a heavy sigh, you slip under the covers, turning away from the side he sleeps on, and lay as still as you can. There’s so much going through your head right now. So much that you don’t understand and so much inside of you that feels as if you’re being ripped apart.

In a way, you’re sorry that you don’t have another room or suite that you could go to. It’s too late tonight to get one. Which is too bad, because you need some distance. Some space. You need to find a place to be alone, and right now, that place is going to have to be inside of your head. Being around him is just pissing him off and it’s not doing your temper any good either. But you have to think. You have to think it all through. You close your eyes and breathe soft and even.

It’s a long time before Tom finally joins you in the bed. He says nothing, just sheds his clothes and gets under the covers with you. You can smell the scotch – how many has he had, you wonder, and then dismiss it from your mind. He too lays with his back toward you and you hear his breathing, slightly ragged as if he’s been crying. There’s a part of you that wants to roll over, to comfort him and hold him close. But until he explains his behavior, at least apologizes for his accusations, you refuse to give in to that part.

Sleep refuses to come and you lay there, listening to his breathing as it finally evens out into soft snores. Your first fight and your heart is heavy in your chest. If you think back, you realize that this has been building since you first arrived for the shoot. After the first week, he started coming back to you, more and more sullen and withdrawn. But he’s always been pliable before, giving himself to your tenderness as you lulled him back to himself. Something must have happened to make this time worse, to make Tom reject your affections.

Is this how it’s always going to be, you ask yourself. Something always irritating him? Always losing himself to a character he plays as he lives out another life and becomes the villain, the bastard? Is that how it will always be? The very talent and ability that makes him so good at what he does is quite possibly the one thing that could destroy the two of you. Maybe it already has. You don’t want to believe that; you want to believe this is just one role that has left him raw and angry. An actor who brings his work home, and he can’t seem to stop it, can’t help himself.

As you lay in the darkness, you make a decision – one that hurts too much to admit, even to yourself. You’re not helping him. You’re hurting him. Tom doesn’t need you here; let’s face it, you _are_ babying him. You tell yourself that you’re trying to make it easier for him but you have to admit to yourself that you’re really just here because you need him more than he needs you. If you must admit the truth – and you must – you’re being here makes things harder than they need to be. The best thing you can do is just go, leave and go home. Because as much as you care for him, you are not going to let him treat you this way. And he’s only going to treat you this way because of this damned movie role. No, the right course to take is to go. Go home.

Sleep never comes but you fall into a thin doze that leaves you in that halfway place where you’re aware of what is going on around you but still in the darkness that keeps you floating away from real things. You’re vaguely aware of Tom’s cell phone ringing as someone gives him his wake up call. As he crawls out of the bed and goes to take a quick shower. As he dresses in the dark, sitting on the bed to put on his shoes. As he reaches over to touch your hip. As he leaves quietly, neither saying goodbye to you nor leaving you with a good morning kiss. As he’s done every day since you arrived together. He simply leaves.

You’re a coward; you know it. You can’t tell him to his face. You can’t even call him. But you can’t just leave without a word. You finish packing and sit down to write one of the hardest letters you’ve ever written in your life. You tell him your decision and how you came to it, you tell him how much he hurt you, and you finish it off with wishing him the best. You want to add that he knows where you’ll be, that he can come any time he wants. But you just don’t have it in you to say it. Maybe it’s for the best, you tell yourself, that you end this now. Spare both of you the heartache and pain. So you don’t say it. You simply fold the letter and seal it up, adding his name to it and leaving it on the table by the door.

Getting a flight home is easier than you thought it would be. You’re home in time for supper, your apartment now a lonely and all too quiet place. You can do no more than stand in the threshold of a place that is now alien to you. You close the door behind you and take your bags to your bedroom. You unpack your clothes and hang them in the closet or stuff them in your drawers. Not because you really want to but because you suddenly need something to do.

You’ve just left the only man who meant something to you and you feel a rock in your belly that threatens to weigh you down. You make a sandwich that sits on the plate, mocking you. Ice cubes melt in a glass of cola that remains untouched. You stare at the television, not seeing the programs that blur across the screen. He’s gone. He’s really gone. Did you just make a colossal mistake? Or did you do the only thing possible to save both of you from killing each other.

The last time you separated, he came to find you. You don’t expect that to happen this time. In your heart, you know it’s over. It’s truly over. You left him with no uncertainty on that score. Your tears are scalding on your cheeks and you sob into your hands, pushing the plate away. He’s really gone. The only man you could ever really love, and you’ve walked out of his life forever. You weep the pain of your broken heart until you are so exhausted that you’re falling asleep over the table. You leave the food and drink where it is. You go to the bed and fall across the mattress as no sleep for the last thirty-six hours and the events finally catch up to you. You fall into the black oblivion before your head has hit the pillow.

It’s well after noon on the next day when you wake up. You drag yourself into your kitchen to make a pot of coffee and, seeing your sandwich still on the table, realize that you are finally hungry. You set the coffee to brew and sit down to finally eat it. You chew mechanically but still, your body demands some sustenance and you give in to it. You eat the sandwich – but dump the watered down soda – and have three cups of coffee before you’re able to get yourself motivated.

You know that you can’t sit here and mourn forever; you need to get back to the world of your life and start living it again. You want to curl up in a ball and let it all go to hell, but the one thing you’ve always prided yourself on was your practicality. You can’t stop being practical now. So, you make a phone call to your boss and ask to return from your leave of absence early. She is thrilled and tells you that you can start back whenever you’re ready. Tomorrow, you tell her, and hang up after a short catch up conversation. You don’t give her details and she doesn’t ask for any. You know that your voice tells it all.

Once again – just as the last time you separated from Tom – you begin the slow and arduous task of picking up the threads of your life. You start up your job again, catching up with friends at work and working your way back into the scheme of things. It feels so odd at first, being back in your office and working with your clients again. They all missed you; they tell you how much your replacement screwed up in your absence. You know better but it’s nice to have been missed.

And how you miss _him_. Does he think of you, you wonder. Did he even miss you? How did he take your letter? So many questions and no way to ever get answers for them. You can run away from the memories, if you can keep busy enough, but you can’t run away from the nights of sleeping alone in your bed. The dreams of him where you feel his touches, tastes his kisses, hear that silly giggle of his when he’s amused. The feel of his body against yours, his cock inside of you.

A new salesman shows up at your office one day, looking to introduce himself, he says. A very tall man, he tells you his name is Daniel. Dan, for short. He has short curly black hair that comes to his collar, large and expressive green eyes, and for a moment, when he smiles, you can almost see Loki smiling down at you. That is a knife twisting in your heart; it takes all you can muster to not snap at the man. Dan seems like too nice a guy to do that to him.

He asks you if you might like to have dinner some time and you say sure, but not right now. You fob him off with the story of having to catch up on things – which isn’t completely a lie – and he says he understands. Another time, perhaps. He seems mollified with that answer and, after telling you it’s nice to meet you, he leaves to go to the next office. You breathe a sigh of relief, sitting back in your chair.

He’s an attractive man and you can tell that he’s nice, polite, and probably a very witty, intelligent man. But you’re just not ready. It’s too soon and while you might want to get back into that part of your life, you can’t do it. You tell yourself that you might _never_ be ready – after Tom, there can be no one else. You know, deep down, that you’ll always be in love with Tom. No one can ever take his place – grumpy bastard that he can be sometimes. You ache inside again and it’s all you can do _not_ to burst into tears.

You tell yourself it will get easier. You finally confess all to your best friend and Katie says the same thing – it will get easier. The hurt may never completely go away; neither will the longing for him…or the love. But it will get easier, she says. She takes it on herself to make sure you’re not alone for a while. For the next month, the two of you are inseparable – movies, plays, hiking. Anything to keep you busy and keep your mind off Tom. You’re grateful for the distraction but she can’t be there all the time. She’s never there in the night when the empty hole in your heart is the deepest.

Another month passes and you make good on your promise to go to dinner with Dan. He really is a great guy, witty and charming. He loves the theater and escorts you out and about. He doesn’t press for more than the chaste kisses you give him – and he’s a really good kisser, but when you close your eyes, it’s Tom’s lips you feel. Until you can completely walk away from Tom, you won’t lead him on. You finally confess the break up and Dan tells you that he can be patient. He understands.

But after the four weeks, you realize that it can’t work and tell him. He is understandably hurt but he takes it well. It’s all right, he says. He has a new job, something came up in his field of study and he’s going to take it. It’ll be easier that way, he tells you. He kisses you and packs up his things from the office. He stops by to say goodbye and wish you well. You do the same to him and after one more sweet kiss, he is gone. One less complication to deal with. After all, you’re not whole any longer.

Katie wants to go to the art gallery hop downtown. You beg off as being tired and having some work to finish. She knows you’re fibbing but doesn’t press. You take a few files and leave a bit early for the day – take away pizza and Pepsi for dinner while you work. But you can barely get one slice down and focusing on the files is next to impossible, so you finally give up on those too. You take your glass of Pepsi and plop down in front of the TV, turning on something mindless to watch until bedtime.

One of those stupid shows about real housewives in some American suburb is barely begun with a fierce banging sound thuds over the sound, drowning it. You jerk your head towards the front door, wondering who could possibly be outside at this time of night. The sound of a fist pounding on your door signals that someone is very intent on speaking to you…and whoever it is, seems to be pretty pissed off. You keep a baseball bat next to do the door, just in case, and you grab it up just as whoever is out there pounds on the door a third time, making the door shiver in the frame. Armed and ready, you reach out and turn the deadbolt, then open the door.

The sight of him is breathtaking. He’s grown his hair a bit, letting the natural curl frame his face. The fury in his eyes make the bluish-green sparkle in his pale face. His lips are set in a thin line and he licks them only once, sucking the lower lip between his teeth. One fist is still poised in the act of pounding on the door again, stopped in midair. The second he sees you, you see the flicker of something in his gaze before it hardens. He storms past you, heading toward your living room.

“Oh, please, do come in, Tom,” you bluster to his back as he makes his way inside, ignoring you at present. You re-lock the front door and leave the bat in its usual place. “After all, let’s not stand on ceremony.” You follow him, not as reluctantly as you want.

He snatches the remote from the sofa cushion and turns off the TV, then whirls to face you.

“Hey! I was watching that,” you protest, then silence yourself as he raises one hand at you. He has something clutched in his fist and you recognize it as the envelope from the hotel. You stare at it.

“You think you can just walk off from me?” He shakes the envelope. “You think _this_ —” He thrusts it at you. “You think this is acceptable? You owe me better than that! You _owe_ me.”

You meet his gaze, letting your own temper rise again. “Owe _you_? What about what you owed me? You called me a star fucker! You accused me of only being with you for the fame, for your money. Because you’re a goddamn movie star! You never took those things back. You owed _me_ an apology!”

Tom’s face changes, that little boy lost look in his eyes now. It’s written there, how guilty he feels over it. But it’s gone just as quickly as the look of fury returns. “And leaving me like that was going to get you one? You called me a few names too, damn it.”

“Which you deserved!” You come nose to nose with him, your fists clenched at your sides. “I didn’t sleep with you—”

“I don’t give a damn why you slept with me! You left! You didn’t even bother to say anything to me. You just left.”

You shake your head, your hair flying about your face. “Tell you what? That you were an asshole to me?”

“Oh, yes, I see,” Tom answers sarcastically. “It’s always about you, isn’t it? What _you_ need, what _you_ want. And what I fucking need doesn’t matter. What I was going throu—”

“Oh right,” you answer, sarcasm dripping from your own words. “Because the world revolves around the great Tom Hiddleston, doesn’t it? So sorry, Loki Junior, I keep forgetting that we mere mortals are here to serve _you_.”

“Oh, fuck you,” he sputters. “That’s not fair. I never treated you that way.”

“Yes you did,” you manage, the hurt speaking now. “When you said I only wanted you for…for your fame.”

The little boy look is back on his face. Tom’s anger fades away. “Don’t you?”

“Did I ever treat you that way? Did I?” You glare at him, the fury rising again. “ _Did I?_ I found you drunk as a lord in a hotel lobby. I could have let those vultures in the press have you but I didn’t, did I! And I didn’t let anyone know about that. I never told anyone!”

He stiffens, his back going ramrod straight but he says nothing.

“I never told anyone I was seeing you. So how’s that for taking advantage?” You won’t look down, won’t tear your eyes away even though you want to. “You were always just Tom to me.”

“Prove it!” He’s practically daring you, and he steps even closer, pressing against you. “Prove it to me. Make me believe it.”

“I have nothing to prove to you,” you insist hotly but it doesn’t stop you from burying your fingers in his curls and pulling his face down to yours. You press your mouth against his and throw your arms around his neck.

The kiss is bruising as he forces his lips against yours even harder. Tom wraps his arms around you, pulling you so tightly against him that your ribs creak under the pressure. His tongue tastes sweet, of honey and lemon, and you suck on it gently as he teases your mouth with it. He presses his hips against yours and you feel his arousal against your quim. No, you think. No, that’s too easy. You pull your mouth away and push him backwards as hard as you can.

He stares at you, surprised and a little hurt.

“I’m not a star fucker,” you tell him in indignation. “And I’m not here for your convenience, Mr. Hiddleston. If all you want is a piece of ass, you’re going to have to find some other tart. I’m sure you can find plenty of groupies to spread their legs for you. I won’t be one of them.”

But after that kiss, your belly is on fire. All you want to do, right now, is throw the man on the sofa, rip his clothing off with your bare hands, and ride him like an unbroken stallion. You are in very clear danger of screaming out that you’re sorry until you’re hoarse – and you know better. He started this, and you’re not going to give an inch. Not without an apology. You turn on your heel and stride across the floor into the kitchen.

You have just enough time to fill the kettle – you suddenly want a cup of tea – and have it sitting on the stove when you feel his hands on your waist. He turns you back to face him, shoving you back against the refrigerator.

“Was I a bastard?” he hisses. “All right, yes, I was. I shouldn’t have said those things. All right? Is that what you wanted to hear? Well I’ve said it.”

“That’s not enough—” you start to growl back but his mouth is immediately on yours again. His tongue creeps between your lips as he claims yours. You reach up to slap at him weakly, his forceful kiss sapping your strength. He takes both of your wrists, forcing them up over your head as he goes on kissing you. He’s driving you absolutely mad with his ardor and you hook one leg around his thigh, pulling his hips closer still. Taking both of your wrists in one hand, he pulls your leg higher.

“No, it’s never enough,” he growls, gasping against your cheek. “You want it all, don’t you? You’d have me beg you to come back to me. I won’t do it. I won’t beg anyone.”

“You’ll beg me,” you answer, biting his shoulder at the base of his neck as hard as you can until he cries out from the pain. “You’ll beg me before this is over, my lad. You’ll be the one kneeling to _me_.”

You get a hand free and now you do slap him, hard enough to make his eye water. He barks a short, humorless laugh and claims your mouth again. He snakes a hand down between your thighs, spreading them wide, and hooks a finger around your lace panties. Roughly tugging on them, the flimsy material gives way, and he pulls them from your hips to drop the now ruined underwear on the floor at your feet. You gasp, sucking the air from his mouth, as the light pain reaches your brain. Your protests are muffled by his lips against yours and now both of your legs are wrapped around his waist as you kiss him back, just as roughly.

You reach into the utility drawer by the fridge, digging into it to find something – _anything_ – to hit him with. It’s not that you don’t want him, but you don’t want Tom to know that. You aren’t just going to give in to him. You frantically use your fingers to find something, pushing aside flimsy wooden spoons to find something plastic and rather hefty – a rather large spatula that you use on the outdoor grill. You yank it out, wielding it like a dagger, only to have it snatched from your hands.

“Oh I think not, my dear,” he purrs in his Loki voice. “No, I think I have better use for that.”

He carries you to the dining room table and with a sweep of his arm, all of your files and papers fly out in a rain of print and confetti. He is deceptively strong, well-muscled and well defined, and he has you on your stomach on the table’s surface. He leans against your back, holding you down with one arm while he pulls the hem of the oversized tee shirt you wear up to reveal your bare arse.

“No, I have a much better use for it,” he repeats in that silken, arrogant tone. “You will know me now. I’m not some bloke you can push around. I’m not some nancy-boy off the streets.”

He lays several strokes on your bare bottom with the spatula, not hard enough to hurt or leave a mark but enough to sting. Each whack shocks you and you gasp hard, trying to raise up but he hold you fast against the tabletop and you can do no more than throw your head back. You scream curses at the top of your lungs, calling him every nasty name you can think of, but it doesn’t stop him – or you. Damn, if that isn’t making you wet between your thighs, your quim practically dripping down the inner parts of your legs.

Tom tosses the spatula to one side, stepping between your legs and parting them with one knee. “You’ve been a very naughty girl, my darling. And I can’t let that pass. You’ll now be very still while I take my pleasure. Otherwise, it’s my hand on your arse next. And I promise, I won’t be as nice as before.”

“Touch me again, you basta—”

He presses his hard cock against your derriere, slipping it between your cheeks and rubbing his hips against the sensitive skin that he’s just spanked. The feel of him shuts you up in mid-word, as every hair on his body seems to spring against your flesh like tiny pieces of silk and satin. You can feel every tiny pore on his skin, down to the very heat of him. Tom slides his feet inside of yours, separating your legs even further and you moan in the back of your throat.

“Beg me!” He is giving no quarter – but then, you are asking for none. “Beg me. Go on. Beg me to take you. Beg me!”

“No,” you scream in shrill tones that surprise even you. “Fuck off!”

“Beg me,” he demands. “You know you will. You know goddamn good and well that you will.”

He’s right, of course. Right now, you want him inside of you, beating against your arse as hard as he can. But will you give him that much? Will you beg? You hear the sound of his zipper as he, one-handed, opens the front of his hip hugging jeans and muscles them down to his ankles. He uses first one foot, then the other, to peel them off and kicks them over toward the sofa. He has to lay against your back and you can feel his breath, hot and wet, against your hair.

“Beg me! Go on, goddamn it, beg me.”

“Please! Oh God, please.” You hate the pleading sound in your voice but right now, you’re so turned on, you can’t stop it. “Please…fuck me. Fuck me hard.”

“No,” he tells you and you can hear the grin in his voice. He raises up, one hand pressed against the base of your neck, holding you down as he teases your quim with the head of his cock, rubbing it against your clit. You moan again, a swallowed scream, and he takes that for what it is – an invitation to do as he will.

He inserts two fingers into your quim, rubbing inside of you and driving you to distraction. “Not wet enough, my dear. Not nearly!” Tom continues pressing against that place inside of you, the friction maddening. He brings you to climax after screaming climax until your throat is raw and still he’s not done. “Beg me, woman. Beg me again. Make me believe you want me!”

“ _Please! Please fuck me. Please!_ ”

He rams inside of you, satisfied now that you are as wet inside as you’ll ever get, and he grunts with his own thrill. He lifts your hips, pulling you toward him until you’re dangling off the table’s edge, and pounds into you. You clutch at the surface of the table, trying to maintain your balance and so sure that you’re going to fall onto the floor, but he keeps hold of you, thrusting harder and harder inside.

The only thing coming out of your mouth is that hard gasp. “Please,” you repeat, a whimper combined with the lust in your voice. He obliges, filling you with his hard cock as far as he can, until you think he’s going to burst through your womb. The heat is almost too much as he pounds away inside of you, robbing you of the rest of your anger and hurt. He thrusts as if he’s pulling it out of you along with his own.

He screams with his own orgasm, pumping once, twice more until he has let go of all of it inside of you. You both gasp as if the air has been sucked out of the room. Your chest is heaving, a pain in your middle from trying so hard get the oxygen into your lungs. His weight is heavy on your back as he releases your legs and you can feel your feet on the floor again. He isn’t moving and, for a few moments, neither are you.

“Get off me. Get up,” you demand.

Slowly he complies, still panting as he raises up. You push up against him, your behind still stinging from the spanking. Without warning, you turn in his arms and slap him hard again. You slap him once more and take off running to your room. Striking him gets the exact response that you wanted; you hear his footfalls on the floor as he chases after you. You have just enough time to open the drawer of your bedside table, pulling out a few toys. _Two can play that game, Thomas William Hiddleston!_

Tom bursts in behind you, gripping the door frame with both hands, digging hard enough into the wood to make his knuckles turn white. His beautiful mouth turns up in a sneer and he advances on you, one step at a time, clad only in the tight tee shirt he wore. Yes, two most certainly _can_ play the dangerous game and as soon as he is before you, you reach out and rip the tee shirt from his body, tearing it at the neck first and then turning the front of it to shreds. He shoulders it off, letting it fall, as he dives on top of you.

You slap at his back, clawing with your short nails and raising welts on his skin. He grits his teeth but he doesn’t stop you. In the half-light of the room – lit only by the lamps in the living room – you can see the bite mark on his shoulder, an angry red still showing your teeth marks in his flesh. You yank on his hair, pulling his head back, and this time, bite at the base of his throat. He curses, a rough sound, and you suck hard on the bite.

You’re not exactly a little wallflower, knowing a few martial arts moves of your own. Not only do you have him beneath you in one expert flip but you have him face down on the bed. You sit across his back, straddling it as you face away from his head. It’s your turn to lay a few slaps on his arse, the skin turning red here too. You slap each cheek hard, exactly five times on each one, before you bend over to kiss and gently suck on the now sensitized flesh. It’s his turn to moan into the mattress, the sound of want escaping those full lips.

“You called me a groupie, damn you! You called me a slut!” You pick up one of the toys, a bullet shaped vibrator, and turn it on. “You son of a bitch, I was never a whore to you! You will not treat me like one!”

You’ve also included a tube of lubricant and you paint the vibrator with it, slicking it nicely. You have enough of the gel on one finger and you slowly slip it into his ass as far as you can. You hear him gasp and turn your head, grinning at him. He’s raised up as far as he can but now it’s his turn to be trapped on the bed, unable to stop you.

“Yeah, that’s right, _Hiddles_ ,” you deride him, using the nickname with as much sarcasm as you can muster. “You want a star fucker, you’re gonna get one!”

You remove your finger and insert the bullet, pushing it up inside of him as far as you can. You have the cord that protrudes from his anus wrapped around your finger so that you can remove it easily, but you have no intention of doing so. Not yet. Not until you bring him to the brink. Not until you show him exactly _who_ has control right now. You administer one more good slap to his ass, just for good measure.

“Yeah, I’ll be your star fucker,” you grunt at him as you slide off his back. “Turn over, you bastard.”

His cock is good and hard again, his balls tight in his scrotum. You have something very special for this part – a rubber _o-ring_. With a firm grip on the shaft, you growl at him, “You lay still or this is really going to hurt, movie star!” Lubing the ring up as well, you slide it over his cock and scrotum. It fits snug around him, a little too snug, and he pulls at the bedding under him.

“Come on, movie star,” you announce triumphantly. “Let’s see you rise to the occasion now.”

You start to pull the bullet vibrator out and then decide against it. You can see what it’s costing him – it’s stimulating his prostate and driving him wild. No, you tell yourself. Let him enjoy that. _It stays_. Instead you pull his legs up over your shoulders, propping yourself between his thighs and take him well in hand. He’s as hard as the literal rock; the blood can’t escape which means he can’t climax until you’re ready to let him.

“You’re gonna beg _me_ now, movie star. And I’m going to make you scream for me to let you pop your cork, baby. I mean scream.”

You gently push his foreskin back and see the first little pearl coming from his cock. With an evil grin, you lean forward and suck it slowly from the head. Your thumb presses into the seam on the underside of his shaft. He does more than moan now – his is a full throaty groan of something that’s not quite pain, not quite pleasure.

“Oh God, please,” he whispers.

It’s now your turn to say, “No,” in triumph. You reach for another of the toys on the bed – this one is an egg vibrator. You switch it on and hold it under his balls, tight against the sack, while you suck his shaft into your mouth. You give him the best head he’ll ever get in his life and his agony is almost too much as he squirms under you.

“ _Please, God, please. Please! You’re killing me! Please!_ ”

With a smirk, you tug at the o-ring. Thanks to the lube, it comes off easily but still manages to catch in his pubic hair, ripping a few as it comes off. He growls at you, throwing you to the bed beside him, then rolls over onto you to mount you with the bullet still in his arse. He mounts you with an urgency, ramming into you as he continues to make that animalistic noise in the back of his throat.

There is nothing gentle in the raw sex as he ravages your quim, bouncing his hips against yours. You claw at his shoulders, his back, his ass. He bites at your neck and you have a moment to worry if he’s about to draw blood. He savages your body, taking one breast in a bruising grip. You beat against his arm to make him let go but he won’t do it. He refuses to give up any sense of control that he might _think_ he has. And maybe he does have it, but you have it too. You bury your hands in his hair once more and pull hard, making him grunt curses into your ear and bite you even harder.

He pounds hard into your pussy, hard enough that you know you’re going to rupture now and still he keeps going. He was so close to shooting into you before but with the release of his cock from the ring and his anger, he seems to have more stamina than either of you thought he had. He is relentless, punishing, and you come in spite of yourself. Screaming, you come. Still he thrusts. You think he’s never going to be used up when he finally lets go and you feel the release of his cream filling you inside, spilling out of you to run down your thighs, into the crack of your ass. He falls against you, panting hard, and you feel the first of his tears against your wounded neck.

Tom sobs like a child, heartbreaking sobs as his body shakes as if it would fly apart.

“Oh, my love,” you whisper, wrapping your arms around him to stroke his back, his hair, his shoulders. “Oh, my dearest love, shhh, no. No, my love, don’t cry. Don’t cry. Shhh, now. Shh.” You try to comfort him, try to let him know that it’s all right, but nothing abates his weeping. So you hold him close and let him cry. All you can do is murmur endearments in his ear and just hold on to him.

After what seems like a very long time, his tears begin to stop. You kiss his cheek, the bite marks you’ve left on his neck and shoulder. His breathing is ragged, just as it was before you left him, and you know now that you were right. He had been crying that night. With a quick motion, you pull the bullet slowly from his rectum and, after flicking the button to turn it off, toss it to the floor.

“Come on, Tom,” you murmur. “Let’s get you under the covers, okay? Come on, honey. Shh, it’s all right. I’m here now. I’m right here.”

He is obviously shaken, docile as a little baby, as he allows you to sit him up on the bed while you pull the covers down on that side. He willingly lays down and you cover him with the blankets.

“Lay still now,” you tell him gently. “I’m going to get us something to drink and I’ll be right back.” You catch the fearful glance he tosses in your direction and you caress his cheek as softly as you can. “No, I’m not going anywhere…other than the kitchen. And then I will be right back. You lie still. I’ll hurry.”

You return as fast as you can with the bottle of Jameson’s and two glasses, one with ice. You pour two fingers in each glass and hand him the one on the rocks. Tom is sitting up in the bed now, propped up against the pillows. He’s turned the bedside lamp on, shedding some light in the room. His eyes are rimmed in red, slightly bloodshot from his crying. You crawl under the covers on the other side and snuggle up against him with your glass.

“You surely are a caution, Mr. Hiddleston. A real caution.”

Tom pulls you closer, kissing the top of your head, and snuffles back the rest of his tears. “I’m an asshole, you mean.”

“Oh stop,” you tell him, stern but gentle. “You can be a jerk on occasion but you are _not_ an asshole. An asshole is forever, a jerk is…” You raise up until you’ve turned around to face him, still close to him.

“You’re right,” he says, not able to meet your gaze. His voice is as meek as a lamb. “I should have apologized on the spot. I was a bloody fool, more than a jerk, darling. I should have told you how sorry I was. I never should have called you those things. I never should have said what I said. I am so fucking sorry.”

Tears begin to fall down his cheeks again and you reach up to wipe them away. You kiss his lips, softly brushing them with yours. “That’s all I wanted, you silly man. And to know why.”

“You were right. What you said in that letter. It was a cock up day.” Tom takes a long sip from the glass and lowers it to rest on the bed by his hip. “I know it’s probably out all over the internet by now but the director and I didn’t exactly get on.”

For a change, that bit of information hadn’t made the press, but it doesn’t surprise you. Given his worsening mood during the time you were with him, it would make sense. “So what happened?” you ask.

“Bloody bastard told me I wasn’t getting the grasp of my character. Shouted at me the entire day. Told me I was wasting his time and everyone else’s. Actually said that I was rubbish for the role.” He sighs, a deep hollow sound that comes from his toes. “Called me a baby, said he had to hold my hand because I was too fucking soft to get it.”

“What a fucking douche bag,” you exclaim. It warms your heart to see the tiny smile on his face when you say that.

“I snapped, darling.” He drains the glass, turning briefly to set it on the bedside table. When he turns back, he folds you into his arms, your head on his wounded shoulder. “I was such a horse’s arse to you and I didn’t even have the decency to tell you. I am so bloody sorry.”

You kiss his chin, his neck, then sit up enough to kiss his lips again. “You’ve apologized enough, my lad. No more guilt on that score. You’re forgiven. Okay?”

His smile is so sweet, the blue-green eyes still watery from his tears. “Thank you. I don’t deserve someone as wonderful as you.”

“Yes, you do,” you tell him. “You’re pretty wonderful yourself, sir. I’m a very lucky lady.”

He touches your cheek, brushing his knuckles against your skin with such softness that the touch feels more like the wings of a butterfly than his fingers. “If we’re still together. Are we? I rather got the impression from your letter than you were tossing me off to the side of the street.”

You shake your head, looking up in that beautiful face. “I don’t get it. How do you do that?”

“Do what?”

“Make me want to smack you one second and cuddle you the next.” You chuckle at yourself. “The only person on the planet that can make pitiful a manly art form.”

Tom sighs sheepishly and rubs the side of his face with the hand not holding on to you. “All right, I deserved that.”

You laugh at him now and kiss him soundly. “No, you didn’t deserve it. And no, you’re not out of my life.” You rest your head on his shoulder again. “Don’t you realize, by now, that you are the most important thing to me? That if it all fell apart tomorrow, I would still love you more than life itself? Don’t you get that now?”

He puts a finger under your chin, raising your face so that he can look deep in your eyes. “I was wrong to suggest other, my darling girl. Don’t _you_ realize by now that I am truly, madly, deeply in love with you?” He kisses you softly, then traces the line of your jaw as he speaks. “You can’t know that moment of agony when I returned to the hotel to find you gone and that letter waiting for me. You will never know how badly I hurt when I thought I had lost you forever.”

You sit up, watching him as he speaks, feeling the needles prick your heart with every word.

“On one hand, it was exactly what I needed. I added that to the character, which turned out to be the hard edge that bastard director wanted. But it tore me apart inside.” Tom runs a hand over his eyes. “God, I’ve never felt so alone in my life. All I wanted to do was get done with that goddamn movie and crawl in a hole.”

“Obviously, you didn’t,” you say softly. “What stopped you?”

He meets your gaze again, a quick flash of the anger he came in with. “I had to know why. The same as you. And I suppose that, deep down, I needed to explain. I knew even then, I owed you that much before you broke up with me.”

“Should I have stayed?” you ask, a niggling of doubt and guilt inside of you. “Should I? Would it have changed things?”

“I don’t know,” he answers honestly. “Maybe. Maybe not.”

“I’m sorry too, Tom,” you say to him, meaning every word. “I’m sorry I hurt you. Leaving was the right thing to do, I think. But I’m sorry for the hurt it caused you.”

“And I’m sorry I hurt _you_ , my love. The things I said were cold hearted and cruel. You are anything but a groupie or a…a…what did you call it?”

“Star fucker.”

“Yes, star fucker.” He smiles at you and takes the glass from your hand. “My beautiful lady, I can’t promise this won’t happen again. It’s the nature of the beast; being an actor, I—”

“I know,” you say, interrupting him. “You bring your work home.”

“Well that too,” he says, rubbing the side of his face again. “I was going to say, being an actor, I tend to have a darkness inside. I wear my emotions on my sleeve and they get quite intense. Sometimes too intense. I’ve had a lot of women leave me because of that darkness.”

You catch the hand at his cheek and softly kiss his palm. “And now that I know, I’ll be better prepared. I’ll try to read your moods better, to know when it’s okay to baby you and when it’s best to stand back and let you come to me.”

“And I’ll try not to take it out on you from now on.”

You slide up to put your arms around his neck. “You’re allowed to vent – just give me a clue next time, okay?”

“God, how I love you,” he breathes against your face and then kisses you with passion.

You relax into his embrace, the worst of it now done. The only thing left is to heal each other and you want that just as much as he does. You need it right now, finding that way back to each other. Your mouth is glued to his as you raise up on your knees and lay down beside him. Tom rolls over on his side, knocking the pillows to the floor, next to his ruined tee shirt, and you both slide down to lay in each others arms.

You kiss his shoulder, taking note of the wince on his face as you do. “Oh God, Tom—”

“Shh,” he says, kissing your face. “I plan on wearing those with pride. My dear girl gave me those.”

His kisses are gentle this time as he traces your collarbones with them, making his way to your breasts. You run your fingers through his hair as he tongues your nipples to erect buds, then sucks them as a baby would. You arch your back to push them deeper into his mouth and he obliges by caressing them, stroking them, making love to them with his mouth. You dance your fingers over his shoulder, taking care to barely brush the bruises of your bites. You sigh in contentment and need, nudging him down further.

There is no full on assault on your quim this time. His kisses are tender, deep inside of you with his tongue, drinking from you as if the scotch was running from your thighs. He slurps greedily, tasting you and once again, bringing you to climax, again and again. He treats your pussy as if it were a Faberge egg, a fragile being to be cherished and adored. You call his name, saying it over and over again, your hands playing in the curls of his hair

He won’t let you reciprocate; his cock is once again hard. He has you so wet that you feel the bed beneath you slick with the honey that has poured from you. You reach for him several times and each time, he pushes your hands away. “No,” he says. “I must make this right between us. I started this. I need to heal it.”

Tom gets on his knees between your thighs, and slides you up until your legs are straddling his hips once more.

“God, Tom, wait,” you gasp. “Wait, it hurts. It hurts.”

“Do you want me to stop, my love?”

“No,” you manage to say. “Please, it hurts.”

“Then I’ll be as gentle as I can, my love.”

And he is true to his word. He slips inside of your quim as lovingly and lightly as he can, careful not to push too hard or deep. Tom’s chest moves in and out as he watches you, his eyes taking everything in. You are close to tears now, not from the pain, but from the nearness of him. He’s home, inside of you and out.

“Please,” you whisper. “Please.”

He holds your hips as he slowly moves inside of you. The pain from the pounding he gave you earlier is brief, the wanting replacing it. You hold your arms out to him and he willingly falls into them. You take him into your embrace, feeling his hips against yours, and you mutter “please, please” into his ear as you feel the tether between you slowly knitting together again.

“Don’t leave me,” he whispers back. “Please, don’t ever leave me again. Please, please.”

When you both find your climax this time, the connection between the two of you is fully restored. The hole in your heart is filled again. There is only Tom, the only man you could ever love. He is back in your arms and your life, where he belongs. You will never let him go again, no matter the circumstances. You belong to him; you know that now. Even more so than you knew it before.

He eases off you, lying beside you and spooning against your back. You’re both exhausted – you, in a way you didn’t even know you felt. It’s as if the separation from him had completely robbed you of your energy.

“What, darling? What did you say?” he asks, the sound of sleep in his voice.

“I said, it’s like I’ve been so tired for a long time. I’ve missed you so much.”

“I’ve missed you, my darling. I was lonely for you.”

“Me too, Tom.”

“Promise me. Promise me you’ll never leave me again. I can’t go on if you do. Please, promise me.”

You feel the pull of sleep taking you down. For the first time since that terrible day, you feel safe enough to fall asleep. You know the nightmares are gone now. He’s home with you; he’s home again. “I swear it, my love. My beautiful man, I will never leave you again.”

He kisses the back of your neck and you feel his smile. He says nothing more, the soft snores telling you all you need to know.

“I will never leave you again, my beautiful man,” you repeat, and chase him down into the sleep.

 

_….to be continued…._


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